


r 






'i: 



X^^.:"^ 

'"^■m^ 



•', iV Im 






'/.:. i'- 



,"Cf»'. 



S'r 



'■>■?."■■.■ 









■ I.' I 







iTA 




■n'.--.vr -1 


' r: 


;*' 




■•'-, 







'-»'*TA.':.«f.,; 





Class JE3SJ 

Book.>[i^'5 



^ 



TH E 

Lanck, Cross and Canoe ; 

THE FLATBOAT, RIFLE AND PLOUGH 

IN THE 

VflliliEY OF THE IWISSISSIPPI 

THE BACKWOODS HUNTER AND SETTLER, 

THE FLATBOATMAN, THE SADDLE-BAGS PARSON, 

THE STUMP ORATOR AND LAWYER, 

AS THH PlOflEEf^S OF ITS CiVlLiIZflTIOrl 



ITS ' GREAT - LEADERS 

REMARKABLE EXTENT AND WEALTH OF RESOURCE 

ITS 

PAST ACHIEVEMENTS AND GLORIOUS FUTURE 

^ BY 

b 
Chaplain U. S. Congress, 

Author of '■'■ The Pioneers, Preachers and People of the Mississippi Valley,''' '■'■The Rifle, 

Axe and Saddle- Bags,'' '■'■Ten Years of Preacher Life," ''What a Blind 

Man Saiv in Europe," Etc., Etc., Etc. 

Nearly 200 Striking Engravings, Including Maps, Portraits, Scenes and Incidents 

KROIVL ORIGINAL DESIGNS 






NEW YORK AND ST. LOUIS: 

N. D. THOMPSON PUBLISHING CO. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1892, by 

WILLIAM HENRY MILCURN, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. D. G. 






^ 



TO 

MRS. PHCEBE APPERSON HEARST, 
WHO, BORN AND BRED 
NEAR WHERE THE MISSOURI JOINS THE MISSISSIPPI, REP- 
RESENTS BETTER THAN ANY ONE ELSE I KNOW THE VERY 
FLOWER AND CROWN OF THE GREAT VALLEY,— THE LIFE 
AND CHARACTER OF ITS NOBLEST WOMEN.— THIS VOLUME 

IS INSCRIBED BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



PREFACE. 



IN this book I have tried to tell the story of the explorers of the Mississippi Val- 
ley — De Soto, Marquette and Joliet, La Salle and Tonti, Bienville, Lewis and 
Clarke, and Fremont; of the pioneers — Boone, Kenton, George Rogers Clarke, and 
their associates ; of the old preachers — Moravian, Baptist, Presbyterian, and Metho- 
dist; and of the people, their warfare with the red-men, their homes and ways, 
their struggles for life and for social and civil order, and their triumphs. I have 
sketched the career of some of the leaders in thought and action — Henry Clay, An- 
drew Jackson, William Henry Harrison, Jo Hamilton Daviess, Humphrey Marshall, 
Sam. Houston, Thomas Hart Benton, Lewis Cass, George D. Prentice; and of two 
of the most remarkable orators that have appeared in the great valley, or anywhere 
else — Tom Corwin and Seargent Smith Prentiss. The Lance is used as a symbol 
for De Soto, the Cross for the saintly Marquette, the Canoe for La Salle, Bienville, 
and the other French voyageurs; while the Flat-boat, Rifle, and Plough, represent 
the American backwoodsmen. 

The book has not been written for historical scholars and critics, but for the people 
and their children ; and, therefore, while striving to be accurate and faithful in all 
statements of fact, I have sought to bring out, in popular form, the picturesque and ro- 
mantic persons and events from the campaign of DeSoto to our own time, and to make 
it racy of the soil. I have laid everybody under contribution — Bancroft, Parkman, 
Shea, Winsor, and all other writers of celebrity that have treated of my theme, and 
many others not so widely known. Much of my material, however, has been drawn 
at first-hand from the early settlers of the country. Within the last fifty years I 
have journeyed over the vast region many times, from the British lines to the Rio 
Grande, from the headwaters of the Mississippi, Missouri, the Arkansas, the Ohio; 
the Holston, the French Broad, and other springs of the Tennessee; and nearly 
every other affluent, large or small, of the great river through whose mouth they 
find their way to the Gulf of Mexico. There is scarcely a town or city in the wide 
district I have not visited. I have known Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Paul, Minneapo- 
lis, Kansas City, Omaha, Denver, since they were villages ; and Pittsburg, Cincinnati, 

vii 



Vlll PREFACE. 

Cleveland, Louisville, St. Louis, and Memphis, when thej were scarcely more. My 
wayfarings have brought me in contact with nearly every man of note that has ap- 
peared upon the stage of the AYest within the past half century, and the enthusiasm 
of my love for the country in which, and for the people among whom, more than 
half my life has been spent, has grown with my years. 

It is a great pleasure to return my thanks for the substantial help generously ren- 
dered me by Col. Eeuben T. Durrett, of Louisville, without whose aid and the re- 
sources of his matchless collection, no man can write a history of the West. I am 
under no small obligation to A. C. Quissenberry, Esq., of the bar department, for 
the valuable assistance he has given me in preparing my sketch of Humphrey Mar- 
shall. I also cordially thank my old friends, Messrs. Harper and Brothers, for leave 
to use such matter as I have wanted and found in their publications. 

I also wish to heartily acknowledge the co-operation of Mr. Charles Burr Todd in 
the production of this book, and to pay deserved tribute to his .literary ability and 
untiring industry. In the compilation of facts — the investigation of authorities, 
and verification of dates — as well as in more direct literary effort in many of the 
sketches, his services have been material and valuable. 

I cannot forbear the expression of my hope that this volume may find its way 
to the homes of my friends throughout the whole country, and to the firesides of 
many others in this and distant lands, and that its reading may give pleasure and 
profit to old and young. ^ jj MILBURN. 

Washington, I). C. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTION. 



THE VALLEY. 

Page. 

The Valley Defined.— The Great River, its Beauty and Majesty Its Lordly Tributaries.— The 

Delta.— Characteristics of the Valley.— The Great Lakes 33 



CHAPTER I. 



THE LANCE. 

SHALL SPAIN HAVE THE VALLEY? 

The Spaniard of the Year 1500. — His Roseate Dreams. — Juan Ponce De Leon. — Fountains of Youth 
and Mountains of Gold. — A Step from the Quixotic to the Satanic. — De Ayllon. — Pamphilo De 
Narvaez. — De Soto in Florida. — Alvar Nunez Cabacca De Vaca. — Don Vasco Forcallo De Figue- 
roa. — Baltazar Gallegos. — Juan Ortiz. — Indian Massacres and Reprisals. — Lost in a Wonder- 
land. — Storming a Walled City. — Hail of Arrows. — Sword and Shield Triumphant. — Toward the 
Mountain of Gold. — A Weary Way. — The Mississippi Discovered. — Circuit of the Arkansas and 
Red. — Death of the Great Leader 37 



CHAPTER II. 



THE CROSS. 

FATHER MARQUETTE AND HIS DISCOVERY. 

The French in the Great Valley. — Daring of the Cross. — Martyrs for Christ. — Youges. — Bre- 
boeuf. — L'AUemand. — Rambout. — Joliet. — Marquette, the Apostle. — His Birth and Lineage. — His 
Missionary Labors. — Discovers the Mississippi. — His Sad Death 67 



CHAPTER III. 



THE CANOE. 

ROBERT CAVALIER DE LA SALLE, 

An Adventurer of Mettle. — Birth and Early Achievements. — Explores the Mississippi to Its 
Mouth. — Takes Possession in the Name of France. — Fights his Way Back. — Returns to France. — 
Sails with a Fleet to the Mouth of the Mississippi. — Fails to Find it.— Deserted by his Captains. 
— Murdered in the Wilderness ■ 84 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER IV. 



AN IDYL OF THE WILDERNESS. PAGE. 

The French at Kaskaskia. — A Western Arcadia. — Manners and Customs of the Villagers. — Simple 
Faith. — Neither Lawyers nor Courts. — A Paternal Government. — "Where Ignorance is Bliss." — 
Bean-Balls. — Kings and Queens of a Night. — Spaniards March Against them. — A Second Ar- 
mada Defeat. — Kaskaskia Fortified. — Description of Fort Chartres 109 



CHAPTER V. 



WAR OF THE LILIES AND THE LION. 



England Appears in the Valley. — Her Magnificent Claim from the Atlantic to the Pacific. — 
The Claim Examined. — Virginia Gains a Foothold. — George Washington, the Pioneer. — A Vol- 
ley Heard Around the World. — Braddock's Ill-starred Expedition. — William Pitt at the Helm. 
— Victory. — Canada and the Great West Made Anglo-Saxon 120 



CHAPTER VI. 



THE RED MAN AND THE WAR OF PONTIAC. 

Language, Disposition, Manners and Customs of the Indians of the West. — Prowess and Wood-craft. 
— The Three Great Families. — Totems. — Pontiac's Birth, Genius, Character. — The Great Con- 
spiracy. — Siege of Fort Detroit. — Universal Rapine and Massacre. — Failure of the Siege of the Con- 
spiracy. — Pontiac Projects New Plots. — Col. Bouquefs Expedition. — Redeems American Pris- 
oners. — Murder of Pontiac 127 



CHAPTER VII. 



CABIN HOMES OF THE WILDERNESS. 



Treaty Between the British and the Iroquois. — Washington's Instinct for Good Land. — Regulators. 
— Battle of the Alamance. — Pioneer Crossing of the Blue Ridge. — General Phineas Lyman. — The 
Connecticut Colony in Mi.^^sissippi. — An Adventurous Journey. — Among the Creeks. — Daniel 
Boone. — James Harrod. — Simon Kenton. — Lord Chatham's Appeal 160 



CHAPTER VIII. 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE AND HIS COMPEERS. 



Au Indian Ahduction. — A Gallant Defense. — Birth and Character of Clarke. — Delegate to the Vir- 
ginia Legislature. — Leads a Force Against Kaskaskia. — Captures Kaskaskia. — His Statesmanship. — 
His Treaties with the Indians. — Expedition Against Vincennes. — Captures the Town. — His Death . . 179 



CHAPTER IX. 



THE BATTLE OF KING'S MOUNTAIN. 

A Mountain Duel. — Settling the Preliminaries. — Advance and Retreat. — The Fight on the Mountain 
Top.— Gallantry of the Mountaineers. — Death of Colonel Ferguson. — A Decisive Victory 194 



TABLE or CONTENTS. XI 

CHAPTER X. 



SHALL KENTUCKY'S BE THE FIFTEENTH STAR IN THE FLAG? PAGE. 

Kentucky After the War.— The Mississippi Must be Free.— Creating a State.— Yoder's Pioneer Voy- 
age. — Arrival of General Wilkinson.— Spanish Plots and Conspiracies.— J ay's Treaty in Kentucky. 
— A Western Empire Proposed. — French Intrigues. — Aaron Burr and his Plans. — Kentucky Be- 
comes a State. — Character of the Early Kentuckians 205 



CHAPTER XL 



THE OLD NORTHWEST. 



Its Grand Proportions. — An Apple of Discord.— Conflicting Charters. — A Nation's Fate Hangs 
Upon it. — The Compromise. — The Northwest Land Ordinance. — Forever Free. — Settlement. — Five 
Great States Carved Out of it. — A National Almoner 230 



CHAPTER XII. 



FRENCH CHIVALRY IN THE SOUTHWEST. 

Discoveries and Settlements. — How Mobile was Settled. — Crozat's Charter and Romantic Dreams. 
—John Law's Mississippi Company. — Exploits of Bienville. — Founds New Orleans. — Intrepid Gaul 
and Polite Castilian.— Village of the White Apple Chief, and What Took Place There.— Death of 
Chopart. — War Against the Chickasaws. — Arrival of the Acadians. — The Gaul Releases his Grasp 
on the Great Valley. — The Spaniard Seizes Louisiana.— The Anglo-Saxon's Advance from the 
East. — France Comes Again to Her Own, but Relinquishes it to the New Republic. — Traditions of 
the French Occupation. — A Princess in Disguise. — Beaudrot, the Hunter. — Bossu's Adventures. 
— The Clan M'Gillivray. — The Napoleonist Refugees 245 



CHAPTER XIII. 



THROUGH THE GATES OF THE ROCKIES. 

An Unlaureled Hero. — A Statesman's Project. — The Men Who Carried it Out. — Sketches of Captains 
Lewis and Clarke. — Ascent of the Missouri. — The Winter Camp. — Path-Finding. — Great Falls of 
the Missouri. — Source of the Missouri. — A Hunting Adventure. — The Mountain Pass. — Fountains 
of the Columbia. — Descent of the River. — Hardships by the Way. — The Second Winter. — The 
Return. — Well-earned Plaudits 296 



CHAPTER XIV. 



JOHN CHARLES FREMONT, THE PATH-FINDER. 

Birth and Character. — His First Essay as an Explorer. — Explores and Describes the South Pass, and 
the Counti-y Between. — His Second Expedition. — The Western Slope of the Rockies. — His Daring 
Adventures. — Discovers Great Salt Lake, the Sierra Nevada Range, the Sacramento and San 
Joaquin. — Third Expedition. — Saves California to the Union. — A Midnight Alarm and Massacre. — 
His Fourth Expedition. — Maps Out a Route for a Railroad to the Pacific. — Senator from California. 
—His Death 319 



XU TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

PART 11. 



CHAPTER XV. 



THE OLD WILDERNESS ROAD. PAGE. 

Early Settlers in Kentucky. — Daniel Boone to the Rescue. — Itinerary of William Calk. — The Ride of 
Captain Van Cleve. — The Route by the Ohio River. — Its Perils and Hardships. — Captain HubbelPs 
Desperate Encounter with Indians 331 



CHAPTER XVI. 



THE OLD PREACHERS AND THEIR PREACHING. 

Christian Frederick Post. — Fate of the Moravian Indians. — Pioneer Churches. — Camp Meetings. — 
Strange Manifestations There. — The Jerks. — Character, Genius, and Methods of the Early 
Preachers. — The Annual Conferences. — Bishop Asbury. — Anecdotes. — Salary of the Bishops. — 
How Brother Axley Sung Himself into the Widow's Good Graces. — William Burke's Pay for 
Preaching the Gospel. — Elisha W. Bowman's Missionary Labors. — Mr. Axley and Judge White. 
— Revs. William Raper and Russell Bigelow. — Dr. Durbin's Eloquence. — Henry B. Bascora, 
the Apollo of the West 338 



CHAPTER XVII. 



THREE TYPICAL BACKWOODS PREACHERS. 

PETER CARTWRIOHT. — His Character, "Voice, Manner, Appearance. — Power of His Eloquence. — 
Anecdotes of. — '-Bring Me a Hatchet." — Cartwright and General Jackson. — Addicted to Wearing 
Galluses. — Forces the Ferryman to Pray. — Early Life — Licensed as an Exhorter. — Achievements. 
— A Muscular Christian, — At the Dance. 

PETER AKERS. — Personal Appearance. — Early Education. — A Free-thinker, — Conversion. — Set- 
tles at Lexington, Kentucky. — Removes to Illinois. — President of M'Kendree College. — Presiding 
Elder. — His Modesty. — Peculiarities. — A Remarkable Prayer. — Removes to Minnesota. 

CHAUNCEY HOB A.RT.— Personal Appearance.— "Stranger, You Must be President of the Track 
Society.'' — Early Life. — Pioneer Experiences, — Joins Illinois Conference, — His First Circuit. — A 
Watch-night Meeting. — Traveling Experiences. — A Frontier Journey 392 



PART III. 



THE FLAT-BOAT, RIFLE AND PLOW. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



THE PEOPLE. 



Their Nationality. — Characteristics. — Daily Life, Manners and Customs, — Dress, — Muscular De- 
velopment, — Diet. — Furniture. — Harvest Bees. — Dinner. — A Dance. — The "Infare."^ — The Rais- 
ing Bee. — An Indian Raid, — Scouting Adventures. — A Western Heroine — Madame Lecompte,— ^ 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. xiii 

Page. 
William Whiteside.— Wayne's Scouts, and their Dare-devil Deeds.— Filson's Bloody Voyage, as 
Narrated by Himself.— The Log School-house Described.— Early Pedagogues.— Anecdotes of.— 
An Arkansas "Noatis."— A Frontier Actor.— An Election Fight.— Early Educational Endow- 
ments.— Transylvania Seminary Founded.— The First Schoolmaster in Kentucky.— First Print- 
ing-press and Newspaper.— Advertisements.— Card Playing.— Lexington.— Louisville.— Result 
of an Earthquake Scare.— Pittsburg in its Infancy.— How Cincinnati was Founded.— Emerson 
on the March of Progress 427 



CHAPTER XIX. 



THE WESTERN MIND. 
ITS MANIFESTATIONS, ELOQUENCE AND HUMOR. 

The Problem that First Confronted it.— From Material to Intellectual Development. — Skill as Con- 
stitution Framers.— Pioneer Laws.— Militia Musters. — The Stump-speech.— Specimen Speeches. 

Power of the Stump-orator Analyzed. — Its Language Corresponds to its Thought. — Wit and 
Humor. — Examples of an Indian Joke. — Westernisms. — A Bishop's Visit. — "The Way to Spring- 
field." — "No Time for Swappiii' Hosses."— Eastern and Western Eloquence Contrasted. — An 
Emersonian Story. — Anecdotes. — The Politicians 462 



CHAPTER XX. 



GREAT LEADERS. 



Henry Clay. — Andrew Jackson. — William Henry Harrison. — Joseph Hamilton Daviess. — Humphrey 
Marshall. — Sam. Houston. — Thomas Hart Benton. — Lewis Cass. — Thomas Corwin. — George D. 
Prentice 4S3 



CHAPTER XXI. 



THE BENCH AND THE BAR, 



Early Courts of Justice.— A Sentence of Death Which was Not Executed. — Judge Pickens. — Up- 
holding the Dignity of the Court. — Elder Hardscrabble. — Burwell Shines. — The Major. — An 
Extraordinary Court Scene. — The Sheriff and the Peddler 565 



CHAPTER XXII. 



SEAKGENT S. PRENTISS AND THE FLUSH TIMES OF MISSISSIPPI. 

Speculating Mania. — Gamblers. — Black-legs.— Robbery. — Negro Stealing. — The Credit System. — 
Peculiar Banking Methods. — Barrels Crammed with Newly Signed Bills. — Land Litigation. — 
Parentage and Birth of Prentiss. — Early Education. — Revenge for a Whipping. — A Junior at 
Fifteen. — Studies Law in Cincinnati. — A School-teacher at Natchez, Mississippi. — Admitted to 
the Bar. — Duels with Gov. Foote. — Perfect Courage. — Personal Magnetism. — Power Over the 
Hearts of Men. — His Victories in Courts of Law. — His Power as a Public Speaker. — Personal 
Characteristics 579 



XIV TABLE or CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 



ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN. PAGE 

The Guild of Stage-drivers. — The National Road. — Stage-lines. — Tavern-keepers. — "You Must 
be Powerful Dirty." — The Keel-boatmen. — Their Evolution, Character, Marksmanship, Code 
of Honor. — The First Steamboat. — Steamboat Voyaging on the Mississippi. — Racing. — Wood- 
ing. — Steamboat Passengers. — Some Pen-pictures. — Johnny Appleseed. — A Strange Figure in 
the Wilderness. — Life in Kentucky Fifty Years Ago - . . . . 624 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



A LOOK BACKWARD AND A GLANCE FORWARD. 

Removal from Philadelphia to Illinois.— First Vision and Impression of the Prairies. — Jackson- 
ville, Illinois, Described. — Character of its Early Settlers. — Words of "Current Coin." — The 
Forum.— Anecdotes of Lincoln, Douglas, Butterfield, Palmer. — The Campaign of 1840. — Chi- 
cago in 1846. — Its Ambition, Energy, Faith in its Great Future. — Its Rapid Growth. — Notable 
Events in its History. — The Great Valley of To-day. — Its Boundless Resources. — Educational 
Advantages. — Bright Future 660 




PAGE. 

Ducking the Feeryman . (Frontispiece.) 

Louis XIV 38 

Ponce De Leon 39 

Cortez 41 

Columbus 43 

Hernando De Soto 44 

Gloom of the Cypress 45 

Map Showing Supposed Route of Dk"! 
Soto and Moscoso in Arkansas and I 

Louisiana J 47 

De Soto's Discovery of the Mississippi 50 

An Incident in De Soto's First Battle 55 

De Soto Pierced with an Arrow . . 57 

Burial of De Soto 62 

View on the Upper Mississippi ... 63 

America Discovered 65 

Marquette's Map of the Mississippi . 66 
YoNGES Compelled to Run the Gaunt- \ 

LET by the Iroquois J 68 

Marquette Descending the Mississippi \ 

River j 69 

Scene on Red River 71 

Map of Louisiana 74 

Marquette, Joliet and Guide Cross- "1 

iNG THE Wisconsin River . . . . / 78 
"In Vernal Pasture Lands They Be- 
held THE Moose, the Elk and the 

Deer" J 80 

"And Vast Herds of Buffalo Grazed) 

IN THE Meadows" / 81 

De La Salle 85 

Seneca Indian 87 

Squaw and Child 88 

Creek Indians 90 

Indian Squaw 92 

Indian Wigwam 93 

Buffalo Cow and Calf 94 

La Salle Displays the Arms of France 97 



PAGE. 

La Salle's Landing in Texas .... 102 

La Salle's Map of Texas 105 

Night Encampment Ill 

City of St. Louis, as Laid Out by Col.] 

Augusts Chouteau, at the Found- y 

iNG of the City in 1764 J 112 

St. Louis in 1780 114 

Old Residence of Gov. A. McNair, St. \ 

Louis / 115 

Sighting the Buffaloes 117 

The State of Lakes — Minnesota . . . 121 

Falls of the Missouri 122 

Incident in the Universal Rapine and) 

Massacre j 130 

Indians Attack Fort Detroit . . . . 13G 
The Ojibwas Surprise and Capture) 

Fort Michilmackinac j 139 

A Deadly Leap 143 

Indians Returning a Prisoner .... 145 

Settlers in Camp on the Muskingum . 147 

Birds op the Mississippi Valley . . . 158 

Daniel Boone 162 

Daniel Boone Alone in the Wilder-) 

NESS OF Kentucky J 163 

House in Montgomery County, Mis- ) 

souRi, IN WHICH Boone Died . . . j 165 

The Old Fort at Boonesborough . . 166 

The Grave of Daniel Boone, Frank- ) 

FORT, Kentucky / 168 

Simon Kenton 172 

Simon Kenton, from his Cabin Home) 

IN THE Mountains, Visits the Capital j 174 

General George Rogers Clarke ... 180 

Indians Surprise Logan's Station . . 182 

Early Home of George Rogers Clarke 184 
Clarke and his Soldiers Crossing) 

THE Wabash J 190 

XV 



XVI 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE. 

Death of Colonel Ferguson at King's \ 

Mountain i 202 

John Filson 209 

General James Wilkinson 211 

John Filson's Map ok Kentucky ... 214 
A Second Map ok Kentucky, Drawn 1 

BY John Filson, a. d. 1784 . . . . j 222 

Aaron Burr 223 

findley, the discoverer of kentucky 227 

A Prairik Scene 232 

The Banks op the Mississippi in the"! 

Steamboat Period J 238 

Falls of Minnehaha 242 

Falls of St. Anthony 243 

Bienville 247 

Bienville Building Fort Rosalie . . 248 

Laying Out New Orleans 249 

A Negro Insurrection 251 

The Ursuline Convent Establisiikd "l 

BY THE French in New Orleans j 255 

New Orleans in 1719 256 

A Leap for Life 2G4 

The Keel-Boat 267 

Charlevoix's Descent of the Missis- 1 

sippi River J 269 

A Negro Village in Louisiana ... 273 

The Sale of Louisiana 275 

Map of the Louisiana Purchase ... 277 

In the Canebrake 293 

View in Grand Canon 297 

Captain Meriwether Lewis 299 

Wild Animals of the West 302 

Buffalo Dance in the Rocky Mountains 304 

The Crow Village 307 

Indian Dog Dance 309 

Buffalo Hunting 311 

Indian Burial Ground 314 

John C. Fremont 320 

The Frontier of Missouri at the Pe- ") 

RiOD OF Fremont's Expedition . . / 321 

Fort on the Western Border .... 326 

Indian Attack on Fremont's Party . . 327 

Crossing the Plains in Wagons . . . 328 

The Successor to the Wagon Train . 329 
Burial Ground of the Delawakes on "i 

the Ohio J 335 

Rev. Christian Frederick Post . . . 339 
Attacked by Indians While Holding! 

Religious Service / 342 

The Circuit-Rider on Duty 343 

A Night in the Great Religious Re- ") 

viVAL IN Kentucky in 1800 . . . . j 346 

Going to Church 348 



page. 
Primitive Methods — Preaching in a"» 

Tobacco Barn j 353 

Rev. James Axley 356 

Rev. Elisha W. Bowman 358 

Peter Cartwright 399 

Rev. Peter Akers 404 

Rev. Ciiauncey Hobart 412 

An Implement of Home Industry in \ 

Pioneer Days j 430 

A Pioneer School-Teacher— "Board- \ 

iNG Among the Scholars" . . . . j 432 
The School Ma'am on Duty — Early \ 

Days in Mississippi j 433 

A Family Singing Psalms 437 

The Frontier Teacher and his School 449 

The Mountain School ....... 451 

The Young Man With the Greasy "i 

Pack of Cards j 464 

Carrying the Mail 466 

The Boy of the Frontier Period . . 467 
The Colored Overseer — One of his \ 

Subjects ' j 470 

The Typical Rural Combination- 
Church, School-House, and Cem- 
etery J 472 

Henry Clay 484 

Lucretia Hart Clay 485 

Henry Clay Addressing the U. S. Senate 488 

Ashland— Henry Clay's Residence . . 490 

Andrew Jackson (Portrait) .... 491 

Andrew Jackson's Birth-Place . . . 492 

W^EATHERSFORD AND GENERAL JaCKSON . 496 

Andrew Jackson 498 

Hermitage — Andrew Jackson's Home . 499 

William Henry Harrison 500 

Fort Wayne in 1812 502 

Tecumseh 504 

Tippecanoe Battle-Ground 506 

Maguaga Battle-Ground 507 

Home of Joseph Hamilton Daviess . . 510 

Humphrey Marshall 513 

Office of the "Kentucky Gazette,'" 
17S7 — THE First Printing-House in 

Kentucky J 517 

Frankfort, Kentucky' 519 

Sam. Houston— From a Photograph \ 

Taken in 1860 / 522 

Sam. Houston— From a Painting . . . 523 

Discussing the Plan of the San An- "t 

TONio Campaign j 526 

Fall of the Alamo 529 

Remnant of the Old Fort of the Alamo 530 

David Crockett 531 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



XVU 



PAGE. 

Monument Erected to the Heroes ) 

OF the Alamo i 532 

Mexicans at a Period of Peace . . . 533 

A Mexican Home 534 

Plan of Battle-Ground of San Jacinto 535 

Thomas H. Benton 539 

Li<:wis Cass 543 

Lewis Cass's Boyhood Home in NewI 

Hampshiue / 545 

Pioneer Home in North Michigan . . 547 

Thomas Corwin 550 

George D. Prentice 5G0 

Birth-Place of George D. Prentice, 1 

AS it Stood in 183S / 563 

S. S. Prentiss 580 

View of the Mississippi at Natchez, \ 

1808 J 582 

Early Home of S. S. Prentiss — Port- ) 

LAND, Maine i 585 

ViCKSiiURG, Mississippi 588 

A Bayou on the Mississippi 591 

A Mississippi Kiver Boat 593 



PAGE. 

Cotton-Picking in Mississippi in the"! 
Early Days / 600 

Over the National Road— the Fore- 
runner OF the Stage-Coach and 
Railway Train J 625 

Scene on the Wilderness Road of a 1 
Recent Period / 626 

The Tavern 628 

The Keel-Boat and Boatmen .... 631 

The Shooting-Match 633 

View of a Settlement in the Pineries 637 

Silently and in the Night They Stole \ 
Away / 639 

Street in New Orleans 641 

A House in the Swamp Districts of) 
Louisiana J 642 

"Johnny Appleseed" 646 

'■The Tribes of the Heathen are"! 
Bound About Your Doohs, and a I 
Devouring Flame Followeth Af- | 
TER Them" J 647 

"Hebe's Your Primitive Christian" . 648 



INTRODUCTION. 

THE VALLEY. 

THE VALLEY DEFINED. THE GREAT RIVER, ITS BEAUTY AND MAJESTY. ITS LORDLY TRIBUTA- 
RIES.-: THE DELTA. CHARACTERISTICS OF THE VALLEY. THE GREAT LAKES. 

bET US first look at the theatre of the events we are to here chronicle. 
Nature has defined it by stupendous boundary walls — the Appalachian Chain 
on the east, the Great Lakes on the north, the Eocky Mountains on the west— be- 
tween these lies an infinite variety of landscape — grim sage-desert, fruitful oasis, il- 
limitable prairies. Here opulent cities sparkling on its bosom, there majestic rivers 
flowing through wide valleys ; here, again, inland seas bearing a commerce greater 
than that of all the maritime ancients combined. A valley larger than all Europe, 
save Sweden and Norway — twenty-three degrees of latitude, thirty of longitude, two 
million, four hundred and fifty-five thousand square miles of territory — the Great 
West. 

Not quite in the centre of this vast area — nearer the eastern than the western wall — 
a river, the most striking topographical feature of the globe, rolls its majestic tide. 
Away up in the Minnesota highlands, seventeen hundred feet above sea level, fed by 
clear springs and curtained by wild rice, lies a beautiful lake — Itasca. The rivulet 
that flows from it enters soon upon wide swelling prairies, a feast to the eyes. Fields 
of wheat and barley nod upon its banks, and sweep away far as eye can reach. 

On it flows, playing "among the flowers of a meadow, watering a garden, or turn- 
ing a mill." It passes through many lakes, and exacts tribute from all. Hundreds 
of tributary streauLs flow in from north, east and west. It is already a lordly river 
when it reaches Minneapolis, three hundred miles below. There it shoots headlong 
into the great chasm of St. Anthonj', turning the wheels and spindles of a city of 
one hundred and sixty-five thousand inhabitants. Emerging, it flows with more dig- 
nity, and does not again indulge in such mad antics. Henceforth to the Gulf navies 

33 



34 INTRODUCTION. 

may ride upon it — it separates sovereign States — it is in truth the Mississippi — 
"Father of Waters." Through the mouths of its great affluents the waters of many 
hundreds of smaller streams, not a few of which are navigable, are poured into it. 

The traveler is in sight of the spires of St. Louis when a sound salutes his ears; 
it scarcely seems the din of tratfic, and is not, for soon he perceives the rush of the 
Pekitanoni, or Missouri (muddy water), which leaps upon the quiet Mississippi as if 
it would efface it, and throws its turbid,boiling current, laden with uprooted trees and 
other debris, quite to the opposite shore. The parent river shrinks away from it; 
even at St. Louis, sixteen miles below, the currents of the two rivers are still distinct, 
the steel-blue waters of the Mississippi sweeping the eastern shore, and the boiling 
current of the Missouri the western — two rivers flowing side by side. Let us study 
briefly this muddy torrent — the Missouri. 

If we follow its tortuous course northwest two thousand, nine hundred and eight 
miles, we shall find its head-waters amid the solemn peaks of the Rocky Mountains, 
on the western edge of Montana. Its principal northern tributary draws its supplies 
almost wholly from British territory. Its three main southern affluents rise among 
the massive ranges that wall in the South Pass in western Wyoming. In its valley 
are five hundred and eighteen thousand square miles of fertile land. It is three thou- 
sand feet wide at its mouth, and discharges into the Mississippi one hundred and 
twenty thousand cubic feet of water every second. 

A hundred or more miles below St. Louis, at Cairo, another tremendous bodj^ of 
water pours into the now turbid river — the Ohio — the h'Oyo, or La Belle Riviere of 
the early voyagers. From the summits of the Blue Ridge, overlooking the Atlantic 
slope, from the coal and oil measures of Pennsylvania, and the water-shed of the 
Great Lakes, these waters have been gathered over an area of two hundred and four- 
teen thousand square miles, rich in mineral and agricultural products, one-half as 
yet undeveloped. Included in its basin are six great tributary river valleys — the 
Tennessee, Cumberland, Wabash, Great Kanawha, Alleghany and Monongahela. 
From this point, and indeed from St. Louis, the river is known as the Lower Mis- 
sissippi, and its physical characteristics differ widely from those exhibited above. 
Its valley is from twenty to fifty miles wide, and composed of loose, alluvial soil, 
through which the great river winds and twists like an immense serpent, its folds 
at times almost overlapping. Interminable swamps, nourishing a luxuriant semi- 
tropical vegetation, cover the face of the country. Groves of cottonwood and cy- 
press fringe its banks, their branches clothed with Spanish moss which floats in pen- 



INTRODUCTION. 35 

dulous, silvery veils along the green walls, and significantly styled the "Curtains of 
Death." Here and there a ragged, water-eroded bluff rises, crowned perhaps by a 
town, or some well-ordered plantation, whose fine mansion with its lawn and gar- 
dens is flanked by rows of whitewashed cottages, called "The People's Quarters; "but 
these are incidents — the general landscape, as in the diiy of the first discoverers, is 
that of wilderness and morass. 

Countless tributaries join this river, without to appearance increasing its volume. 
The Arkansas, the first of importance below the Ohio, is one thousand five hundred 
and fourteen miles long, and draws its waters from the eternal snows of Pike's Peak 
and its congeners in Colorado, ten thousand feet above sea level. This tributary is 
fifteen hundred feet wide at its mouth, and drains an area of one hundred and eighty- 
nine thousand miles. Next below, on the west, conies in the Red River, twelve hun- 
dred miles long, rising among the foot-hills of the Rocky Mountains in Texas, only 
two thousand four hundred and fifty feet above the tide. This stream has an area of 
ninety seven thousand square miles. The Yazoo, which enters from the east, is a 
sluggish stream; in its course of five hundred miles, having a fall of but two hundred 
and ten feet. 

In time of flood, the Father of Waters is in places thirty miles wide. Nearing the 
Gulf it meets, fifty miles inland, a series of swamps, lakes and bayous, through which, 
imperceptibly, the mass of its waters is drained into the sea ; but it has beside several 
distinct mouths forming a delta of nineteen thousand four hundred and fifty square 
miles. Its principal mouth is two thousand four hundred and seventy feet wide, and 
pours into the Gulf six hundred and seventy-five thousand cubic feet of water every 
second. The navigable waters of this river form a highway nine thousand miles in 
extent — more than one-third the circumference of the globe. 

"The Sources of the Upper Mississippi," says Foster, "are among the great for- 
ests of conifers, white birches and aspens — subarctic types — which continue north, 
but dwarfed in stature, until the limits of arborescent vegetation are reached ; and 
its mouth is in the region of the orange, the magnolia, and even the palm — thus ap- 
proaching the verge of tropical forms." 

Near the head of the valley on its eastern side is the group of gigantic lakes whose 
only outlet is the majestic St. Lawrence, which carries their waters into the Atlantic. 
They occupy nearly a hundred thousand square miles, and contain more than one- 
half of all the fresh water on the globe. The level of Lake Superior, the grandest 
of the group, is six hundred and three feet above that of the sea; Michigan and 



30 INTRODUCTION. 



Huron are twenty-five feet lower; Erie is thirteen feet below their level, and On- 
tario, by the grand cataract and rapids of Niagara, is brought to a still lower descent 
of three hundred and thirty-three feet. 

Such was the vast territory wdiich the pioneers discovered, conquered, settled and 
cultivated ; it will now be our task to tell the story of their achievements , 



CHAPTER I. 

THE LANCE. 

SHALL SPAIN HAVE THE VALLEY? 

THE SPANIARD OF THE YEAR loOO. HIS ROSEATE DREAMS. JUAN PONCE DE LEON. FOUN- 
TAINS OF YOUTH AND MOUNTAINS OF GOLD. A STEP FROxM THE QUIXOTIC TO THE SATAKIC. 

DE AYLLON. PAMPHILO DE NARVAEZ. DE SOTO IN FLORIDA. ALVAR NUNEZ CABACCA DE 

VACA. DON VASCO PORCALLO DE FIGUEROA. P.ALTAZAR GALLEGOS. JUAN ORTIZ. 

INDIAN MASSACRES AND REPRISALS. LOST IN A M'ONDERLAND. STORMING A WALLED CITY. 

HAIL OF ARROWS. SWORD AND SHIELD TRIUMPHANT. TOWARD THE MOUNTAIN OP 

GOLD A WEARY WAY. THE MISSISSIPPI DISCOVERED. CIRCUIT OF THE ARKANSAS AND 

RED. DKATH OF THE GREAT LEADER. 

THE contrast is most striking between the Spaniard of to-day and the Spaniard 
of three hundred years ago. Now he is indolent, often apathetic, grave, re- 
served, and whatever his inward capacit}^ of passion or of exertion, an inefficient and 
idle man. But in those old days the Spanish race was inspired with a wild, four-fold 
energy of avarice, religion, ambition and adventure, which swept them round and 
round the world in a long and bloody storm of conquest, conversion and slaughter, 
gained them their vast colonial realms and wealth, and unfolded a panorama of 
achievements, miseries, cruelties and crimes whose representations, in the antique 
wood-cuts of De Bry, are horrible to look upon. Governor Galvano quaintly says, 
speaking of the craze which fell upon Spain in consequence of the early American 
discoveries, that they "were ready to leap into the sea to swim, if it had been pos- 
sible, into those new-found parts." 

There is not stronger or stranger exemplification of the steady obstinacy with which 
this insane chase after riches and glory was pursued than the long chapter of disas- 
trous Spanish inroads upon the territory of the southern half of the United States, 
then called Florida, which took place between 1512 and the foundation of St. 



Augustine in 1565. 



37 



38 



THE SPANIARD OF THE YEAR 1500. 



The earliest European name associated with the southern coast of the United 
States is that of Juan Ponce de Leon, a brave old warrior, whose early manhood had 
been passed in hunting the Moors from Granada, and in acquiring that inflexibility of 
purpose and hardiness of character which enabled him to play his distinguished part 



1,1 
liiii. Hi 



'i||i|fi[!:i jifii 




LOUIS XIV. 



as a conqueror in the New World. Sailing with Columbus on his second voyage, 
spending most of his remaining life in the West Indies, subjugating Porto Rico, 
where he ruled with an iron sway as governor, superseded in his command, thirsting 
ever for gold and glory, and yearning for a renewed life in which to enjoy the fruits 



PONCE DE LEON S DREAM. 



39 



of his valor, he turned his prow to the northward, in search of the hmd Avhere the 
crystal waters of the fountain of youth washed those yellow sands of price, the dis- 
covery and possession of which would give the happy voyager the realization of the 
twin dream of Alchemy — gold and immortality. Fables were the faith of the time. 




PONCK DE LEON. 



Could credulity cherish a wilder phantasy than the Genoese mariners? Yet this had 
been fulfilled. Miffht not De Leon's, too? So the stout old cavalier took his way 
to the north. Aged Indians had told him that in that direction lay the objects of his 
search. His many fights had left him full of wounds and scars; age was bending 



40 r>E AYLLON S TREACHEKY. 

his manly form ; weakness was creeping on apace. No matter, for the Fountain shall 
give him immortal youth, and with it health and beauty. 

Land was made Palm Sunday — Pascua Florida — 1512, near St. Augustine. Beau- 
tiful enough for the shore of the immortals was this which now rose before his eyes, 
covered with rich greensward, dappled with flowers of unnumbered dyes, over- 
shadowed by giant trees clad with summer leaves, glorious with rainbow garniture of 
tropic blossoms, over which hung long pendulous veils as if of silver tissue. Softly 
came the land breeze freighted with the breath of flowers, upon that triumphal Sab- 
bath morning, and it came — so thought the Spaniard — straight from that fabled 
spring, and with the fever of excitement in his veins, and the throb of rapture at his 
heart, "Florida," he cried, "is it not the land of flowers !" In honor of the festival, 
and in honor of the blossom-clad coast, he named a name which it bears to this day. 

But alas for the hojDcs of Ponce de Leon ! It was no morning land of immortality 
for him, save as the name he bestowed preserves for us and after-times the dim 
shadow of his antique renown. L^pon his second voyage, a poisonous arrow from an 
Indian's bow brought him his message of doom. Hastening to Cuba he breathed his 
last, leaving his Flower-land a fatal legacy to Spain for many a sad year to come. 

In those old days of Spanish rule, there was but one step from the Quixotic to the 
Satanic, and that step was taken by Vasquez de Ay 11 on, the next adventurer whose 
keels furrowed the waves of our coast. This monster came for slaves to work the 
mines of the West Indies, where the atrocities of the Spaniards had in less than 
thirty years well-nigh exterminated a numerous and happy people. 

Reaching the coast of South Carolina, De Ayllon entered a river, called in honor 
of the captain who discovered it, the Jordan. Landing on a pleasant shore, which 
the natives called Chicora — Mocking-bird — the}' were hospitably welcomed and enter- 
tained. But the Christian white man's return for the red heathen's courtesy was be- 
trayal, outrage and death. Having laid in his supplies, De Ayllon invited the In- 
dians aboard his vessels, an invitation gladly accepted by the unsuspecting red men. 
While crowds of them were below, the hatches were closed, all sail made, and away 
over the blue waters sped the winged monsters with their prey. But did not that 
wild, despairing cry from ship and shore, of husbands and wives, parents and chil- 
dren, thus ruthlessly torn from each other, reach the ear of God? One of the ships 
foundered, and all on board perished. The remaining Indians refused food, and thus 
died. The aborigines of this country could not be reduced to slavery. 



PAMPHILO DE XARVAEZ MEETS CORTEZ. 



41 



Again De Ayllon came with three vessels and many men to conquer Chicora. The 
natives masked their pm'pose of revenge, received him kindly, lulled his suspicions 
into fatal security, and he dreamed the goodly land already his own. They made a 
great feast for their guests some leagues in the interior. Two hundred of De Ayllon' s 
men attended, he with a small party remaining to guard the ships. Three days the 
banquet lasted. The third night the Indians arose and smote their treacherous in- 
vaders and slew them, so that not one of the two hundred was left to tell the hor- 
rible tale to his companions on the beach. But the Indians themselves bore the ti- 
dings, for they fell upon the guard, killed some, and wounded others, so that but a 
handful reached their ships and bore away for 
St. Domino-o. De Ayllon himself seems to 
have died, either of his wounds, or shame, or 
both, at the port in Chicora. 

A few years later Pamphilo de Narvaez, in 
command of a splendid armament, undertook 
the subjugation of Florida. At an earlier date 
he had been sent by the governor of Cuba to 
arrest the victorious progress of Hernando 
Cortez in Mexico. Losing an eye, and failing 
in the attempt, he was conducted to the pres- 
ence of Cortez, whom he complimented by in- 
forming him that he must be a remarkable 
man, as he had succeeded in vanquishing him. 
"That," replied the redoubtable conqueror of 
the Montezumas, "is the least thing I have done 
in Mexico." 

Landing in Tampa Bay, April 12th, 1528, with four hundred men and forty-five 
horses, Narvaez immediately dispatched his vessels to Cuba for fresh supplies, pay- 
ing no regard to the prudent entreaties of the treasurer of the expedition, Alvar 
Nunez. They soon roused the relentless hostility of the valient Seminoles by their 
gratuitous barbarities, and every rood of their toilsome march, through tangled for- 
ests and endless quagmires, was rendered doubly difficult by ambuscades and attacks. 
Inspirited, however, by the stories of some captives acting as guides, to the effect 
that in Appalache they would find a fertile province abounding with gold, the object 
of their eager quest, they urged their way onward. On reaching the land of promise. 







CORTEZ. 



42 NARVAEZ'S ILL-STARRED EXPEDITION. 

Nai^vaez, who had pictured to himself another Mexico, was bitterly undeceived, find- 
ing only a rude village of two hundred and fifty cabins. They took possession un- 
opposed, for the inhabitants had fled to the woods. Twenty-five days were passed 
here ; but the army, now more clamorous for bread than for gold, learning that the 
sea lay nine days' march to the southward, bent its weary steps toward the village of 
Aute, where, it was said, were plenty of provisions and a harmless people. Their 
path, however, was beset by yet greater natural obstacles, and by the implacable fury 
of the savages. At length reaching Aute, not far from the present St. Marks, they 
found the village burned b}^ the retreating inhabitants, but esteemed the discovery of 
a plentiful supply of maize ample compensation. 

What was to be done? Their hopes of conquest and treasure were gone; to re- 
main in the land was impossible ; to traverse the shore in search of their ships might 
be fruitless, and would expose them to the ferocity of the Indians. Many of their 
horses were slain ; so were not a few of their bravest companions. 

A day's march brought them to the banks of the river which widened into a bay. 
Here they resolved to build them such boats as they might, and in them seek their 
ships, or attempt to return to Cuba. Vigorously they plied their work; and at 
length five frail barks were launched, in each of which, on the 20th of September, 
1528, were crowded from forty to fifty miserable souls; crowded so that the gun- 
wales were almost even with the water. Thus along that tropic shore they hoped to 
coast in the season of storms. Narvaez, remaining one day in one of his boats with 
a sailor and a sick page as a guard, while his crew went ashore to pillage for food, 
was driven out to sea by a tempest and never heard of more. The only survivors of 
this ill-starred expedition were Alvar Nunez and four companions, who, after incred- 
ible wanderings along the northern shore of the Gulf of Mexico, westward through 
Texas to the Eocky Mountains, and thence to Mexico, exposed to every species 
of hardship and peril — passing from tribe to tribe of Indians, sometimes starved 
as slaves, sometimes, we may believe, worshipped as demi-gods — in 1537, nearly 
ten years from the time of their sailing, finally reached Spain. 

In 1537, there appeared at the court of Charles V. a renowned captain, adorned 
with laurels from the conquest of Peru, and enriched by 180,000 golden crowns, his 
share of the plundered treasure of Atahualpa. A gentleman by four descents, and 
therefore entitled to membership of the noble order of Santiago, he had, never- 
theless, begun life as a private soldier of fortune, his sword and target his only pos- 
session. And thus far fortune and deeds of prowess had won him great success. 



CHARACTER OF DE SOTO. 



43 



His lance was said to have been equal to any ten in the army of Pizarro. In the 
saddle his match was not to be found. Prudent in counsel as he was brave in field, 
he was no less knightly in denouncing what he esteemed the wrong— boldly with- 
standing his commander to the face, and charging home upon him the Avickedness as 
well as bad policy of the Inca's murder. 

He was proud, determined and reserved; as the Portuguese narrator describes 
him, "a sterne man and of few words; though he was glad to sift and know the 
opinion of all men, yet, after he had 

delivered his owne, he would not be J#*^^it 

contraried. ' ' A published /ac simile 
of his signature, a large and strong 
autograph, as by a powerful hand 
more used to wield sword and spear 
than the pen of the writer, corres- 
ponds well with his stately and 
haughty character. Although not 
naturally liberal, he was profuse and 
magnificent in his expenditure in 
this his first appearance at court, 
and was attended by a troop of gal- 
lant knights who had fought under 
him in Peru, and had brought back 
each a fortune from the treasure of 
the Incas. Luis de Moscoso de Al- 
varado, John Danusco, and a long 
list of others, with names equally 
claiming attention, did their histo- 
ries come within our design, spent 

their wealth, acquired in soldierly wise, upon soldier's luxuries, mettled barbs and 
splendid armor ; but Hernando de Soto surpassed in magnificence all the courtiers of 
the Emperor. Only five and thirty years of age, tall, handsome, commanding in 
presence and action, was it marvelous that Donna Isabella de Bobadilla, though the 
daughter of the very earl under whose banner he had first enlisted in the ranks, one 
of the fairest ladies of Spain, of one of the proudest and most powerful families, 




COr.UMBUS. 



44 



MARRIAGE OF DE SOTO. 



should 3'iekl her heart to the irresistible soldier? So fortune and his merit won him 
his best — alas, that it was also his latest boon! — a loving, prudent and faithful wife. 
And now could he not rest in that pleasant palace at Seville, and buy him corn- 
fields and vineyards and olive plantations, and become a great lord? With houses 
and lands, and servants, friends and honor, great connections, and a good and noble 
wife, had he not wherewith to be content? But when did the lust of fame, or power, 
or gold, ever allow a man to be content? Here they united their spells, and De Soto 
must find new worlds to conquer. Find them he did — but finding and acquiring are 
two things. So he sought for and obtained the magnificent appointment of captain- 
general for life of Cuba, Adelantado (civil and military governor) of Florida; and a 
marquisate of thirty leagues by fifteen, in any part of the to-be-conquered country. 

He was to undertake the conquest at his own expense, 
and to pay to the crown one-fifth of the treasure 
found. 

Then came the wonderful story of Alvar Nunez 
Cabacca de Vaca, like an additional demoniac spell, 
to tempt this goodly knight. To be sure, the treas- 
urer of Narvaez brought home no treasure ; but he 
threw out dark hints of the great wealth of the land 
he had explored, and had intended to apply for the 
very adelantadoship which De Soto had obtained. In 
default of this, he asked and received the government 
of La Plata. The imagination of De Soto, and of 
Spain, took new fire. 
The triumphs and trophies of Cortez and Pizarro should be as nothing to his; for 
what were Mexico and Peru to Florida ! Poor Ponce de Leon ! thy fatal legacy hath 
fallen to another heir ! 

Florida at that day included all the country lying north of Mexico, extending upon 
its eastern coast from Key West to the banks of Newfoundland ; so that it embraced 
what we know as the United States of America. Need we be sad that it was a woe- 
ful heritage to the sons of Spain? This land was held in reserve for the scions of a 
nobler stock than Charles V. governed, and for a sublimer civilization than Castile 
and Aragon M^ei-e able to bestow upon the world. 

In fourteen months the armament was ready to weigh anchor. Nine hundred and 
fifty men, the best blood and chivalry of Spain, gay young knights thirsting for dis- 




HEKNANJJO DE SOTO. 




GLOOM OF THE CYPRESS. 



46 THE FLEET SAILS FOR CUBA. 

tinction and wealth, well-tried warriors from the fields of Africa and Peru, stout men 
at arms, halberdiers, cross-bow men and arquebusiers — more came than the general 
could take. Men sold their patrimonial acres to furnish themselves for the cam- 
paign. One disposed of 60,000 reals* of rent; one of a town of vassals; Baltazar de 
Gallagos, of "houses and vineyards, and rent corne, and ninetie rankes of Olive trees 
and the Xarafe of Siuil." The usual difficulty in fitting out an expedition to well- 
known and rich countries, was to find men. De Soto, bound to an unknown wilder- 
ness, was unable to find vessels for the multitude of volunteers, and many of those 
who had sold their estates for the sake of joining him, unable to find room on board 
the fleet, were forced to stay behind. 

Amid the braying of trumpets and the roar of artillery, the vivas of the beholders 
and the shouts of the campaigners, the fleet of ten sail left the port of San Lucar de 
Barrameda, April 6th, 1538. They reached Cuba about the last of Ma}-, and here 
De Soto spent a year in arganizing the government, and making preparations for his 
enterprise. 

Cuba was noted for its noble breed of horses, wherewith our gay cavaliers supplied 
themselves amply; and byway of putting themselves in trim for the work before 
them, spent much time in tournaments and bull-fights. The inhabitants of the 
island, well-nigh crazed by the excitement and brave show, flocked in throngs to the 
standard of De Soto. At their head was Don Vasco Porcallo de Figueroa, a doughty 
old warrior who had seen severe service in many parts of the world, and had now 
settled down as a wealthy proprietor in the Queen of the Antilles. As the horse 
smelleth the battle from afar, so did this veteran. To show him due honor, the 
Adelantado appointed him his lieutenant-general. 

The Portuguese, narrator states that Don Yasco's object was not glory, but Indians, 
whom he desii^ed to obtain in order to supply the places of those whom toil and 
cruelty had slain in his mines and upon his estates. This purpose seems, at least, 
consonant with the character of a Spanish Cuban proprietor; and that his treatment 
of his slaves was such as to require re-inforcement in their numbers, may appear 
from a quaint old story of his steward. This steward, it seems, discovered that 
certain of the Indian slaves, as was the sad custom of their race, had agreed to meet 
at an appointed place and kill themselves to escape from their tormenting task- 
masters. So he repaired with a cudgel to the rendezvous, and when the miserable 
heathen had assembled, suddenly stepped among them and told them that they could 
* Real, a Spanish silver coin, worth an eighth of a dollar. 






""^^j. 



^'-/-^ 



.^o. 



^A 



\P^ 



l^r 



'S 



t3Ci 



'''/'^ 



The P^ovince\of Cay/\5 



y 



"o^. 






^^A: 



^<^. 



V^ 



^ 



^4^^ 



m 




/iNT/mguE 



^ 









-V> 



*j- 



My' 






i 



/(Am 



rf 



[puiqflTA 



FfiCfiHfl{ 






CHISCf\ 



^0£ 



'OFF 



^'^'"■'°'fi'<mN,,,,^„,^, 



ysy^ 



fe 






ii 









^ 



Wu 






^<> 



L0liJ5JANA 



<.^o 



ya 



\wAftp c/pSoro aifd M/iy//fr ^sfz 

\at></wcfi luriee/ in the FiiU£f{ 



MAP SHOWING SUPPOSED ROUTE OK DE SOTO AND MOSCOSO IN ARKANSAS AND LOUISIANA. 



48 ARKIVAL AT FLORIDA. 

neither plan nor do anything that he did not know before; and that he <had now come 
to kill himself with them, in order that, in the next world, he might treat them 
worse than in this. The poor wretches believed him, and returned quietly to their 
labor. 

All things were at last settled, and leaving his noble Avife, Donna Isabella, to govern 
the island, De Soto sailed from Havana, with mirthful pomp, May 18th, 1539. 
Already Juan de Anasco had made two cruises to discover a harbor in which to laud. 
A point was selected, and thither the fleet sailed. It consisted of eight large vessels, 
a caravel and two brigantines, and contained a thousand men, besides the sailors. 
Whitsunday, M.iy 25th, they made a convenient bay on the western or Gulf coast of 
Florida, which, in honor of the day, was named Espiritu Santo, now Tampa Bay. 
No sooner had they neared the shore than bale-fires were seen blazing, far as the eye 
could reach ; vast columns of black smoke ascending, in token that the Indians were 
preparing to receive them. Eight day? were spent in sounding the bay, and then 
the landing began. A slight skirmish, in which the natives were soon dispersed, was 
all that occurred to impede them. 

A march of two leagues brought them to the deserted village of a chief named 
Hirrihigua, where, on the capture of some of the natives, De Soto was made ac- 
quainted with the horrible atrocities practiced by his predecessor, Narvaez. That 
worthy, having entered into solemn covenant with the cacique, suddenly became en- 
raged, at what no one could tell, ordered the dogs to be let loose on the mother of 
Hirrihigua, who was soon torn to pieces, and then commanded the nose of the chief 
to be cut off. This brutality had implanted in the breast of the Seminole an undying 
hatred toward the Spaniard. To all of De Soto's overtures he turned at first disdain 
and then evasion. At this village the stores for the campaign were landed, and at 
the gathering of the forces a strange medley did the muster show. A thousand 
knights and soldiers, twelve priests, eight other ecclesiastics, and four monks; 
workers in wood and iron, miners and assay ers; then three hundred and fifty 
thorough-bred horses, three hundred hogs to stock the country, and packs of blood- 
hounds to hunt the natives. There were match-locks and cross-bows, pikes, lances, 
and swords ; one piece of ordnance ; manacles and iron collars for prisoners ; and a 
store of baubles, as presents for those whom they might Avish to propitiate. Wine, 
bread and flour for the mass, were there; and, lastly, cards for gambling, which, by 
the way, was carried to excess, men often losing the last article thej^ possessed. 
Stately knights, clad cap-a-pie in burnished armor, bestrode their prancing steeds, 



RESCUE OF JUAN ORTIZ. 49 

while all the commonality were well protected with breast-plates, bucklers and 
helmets. There had been no stint of money to supply all that experience could sug- 
gest or that taste could hint as necessaries or luxuries in the enterprise of conquest 
and colonization. 

Rumors having reached the camp that a Spaniard was living in a neighboring vil- 
lage, Baltazar Gallegos, a dauntless officer, was dispatched, at the head of sixty horse- 
men, to secure him for an interpreter and guide. As Baltazar and his troopers were 
rapidly pushing on, they espied a company of Indians on the verge of a plain. The 
Spaniards, anxious for a brush with the natives, manoeuvred to attack them ; but all 
save two fled to the forest. One of these two was wounded ; the other, at whom 
Alvaro Nieto, one of the boldest troopers, was spurring, danced from side to side, 
seeking to parry Nieto's thrust with his bow, shouting the while, "Seville, Seville!" 
hearing which, the trooper cried, "Is your name Juan Ortiz?" "Yes," was the 
reply. Reining up his horse, Alvaro caught the other by the arm, raised him to the 
croup of his saddle, and hurried in triumph to Baltazar. 

The story of Ortiz deserves a brief recital. Born at Seville, of "worshipful par- 
entage," he had joined the expedition of Narvaez, had returned to Cuba with his 
vessels, and had accompanied the expedition which, ten years before, had put in at 
the bay of Espiritu Santo, in search of his commander. It was not long after the 
departure of that barbarian, and while Hirrihigua was in the agony of his recent 
wrongs, that, as the expedition was coasting along the shore, a few Indians appeared, 
pointing to a letter in a cleft reed, evidently left by Narvaez. The Spaniards invited 
them to bring it aboard. This they refused ; but four of them, entering a canoe, 
came off as hostages for any of the crew who might go to fetch it. Four of the 
whites accordingly landed, and were instantly set upon by a crowd of savages, who 
had been concealed in the thicket. The four hostages sprang into the sea, and swam 
ashore. The crew, anticipating the fate of their companions, and fearing the like 
for themselves, made sail with all speed. The captives were conveyed to the village, 
and condemned to be shot, one at a time. Three were thus dealt with, and the 
fourth, Juan Ortiz, was being led forth, when the wife and daughters of the cacique, 
touched with compassion at sight of his youth and comeliness, interceded with 
Hirrihigua, and gained a respite. His life was still a wretched one, softened only 
by the watchful kindness of the women who once even rescued him after he had 
been half burnt alive by order of his implacable captor. At length, through their 
aid, he succeeded in escaping to the village of Mocoso, a neighboring chief, who 



DON VASCO'S CHARGE AND INGLORIOUS RETREAT. 51 

treated him as if he had been a brother, and protected him from all danger. Here 
he had remained ever since, and was now residing; nearly naked, browned, painted, 
with a head-dress of feathers, so that one might not know him from a savage on an 
embassy from Mocoso to the camp of De Soto. Great was the joy of the camp at 
the recovery of Ortiz. The Adelantado received him as a son, gave him all that 
heart could wish, and thenceforth he became the interpreter of the expedition. 

Meanwhile, Lieutenant-General Don Vasco Porcallo, who was picked up in Cuba, 
testy and withal vainglorious, yet longing to distinguish himself, entreated to be sent 
in pursuit of Hirrihigua, that he might ferret him out of his swampy fastnesses, and 
bring him, friend or prisoner, to camp. Despite monitions, he set out, dashed for- 
ward, and was only arrested by a quagmire, where himself and horse were in imminent 
danger of being smothered. Conquered by the mire, he returned crestfallen to 
headquarters, venting curses upon the country, natives and expedition. * 'May the 
fiend fly away with the country where they have such names!" quoth he. "Let 
those fight in this accursed place for fame and wealth who will. As for me, I have 
enough of both to last me. So I will go back to Cuba, and let the hot bloods see it 
out." Thus does Don Vasco Porcallo de Figueroa disappear from this story; for, 
at his request, De Soto sent him home. "The prudent man forseeth the evil, and 
hideth himself." 

A strong garrison was left to protect the stores, and the march began toward the 
northeast. It was the beginning of a three years' campaign of incredible hardship — 
from hunger, nakedness, cold, disease, wild beasts, savage Indians. Their path 
crossed swollen rivers, tangled morasses, now and then grassy savannas smiling with 
flowers, but its general aspect was that of sternness and savagery. Gold was the 
object of the leader's quest; therefore his course was directed toward those regions, 
where, according to the Indians, the yellow metal abounded. Northward it led to 
the great Appalachian Chain, the mountains of Georgia and Alabama. First to the 
plain of Aguera, where they rested, finding maize in plenty. Thence onward to the 
land of Ocali — where they had heard gold was so plentiful that in war the soldiers 
wore helmets of it — ambushed and harrassed all the way by the warlike Seminoles 
through whose territories they were passing. But Ocali was reached, and instead of 
roofs and head-gear of solid gold, as fancy had pictured, was onlj^a small, poor town, 
of palm-thatched huts, empty of people. Next, their will-o'-the-wisp led them into 
the territories of Vitachuco, a powerful chieftain, who, though he broke bread in 
amity with them several days, they soon discovered in a plot to massacre the entire 



52 VITACHUCO'S UNSUCCESSFUL PLOT. 

army. Vitachuco was siezed, and the Spaniards, charging with headlong valor upon 
his army of ten thousand warriors, drove them into the lakes, with which the country 
abounded. Many were taken, and, with the chief, reduced to slavery. But still the 
latter, undaunted, plotted to rid his country of the invaders, and formed, at length,^ 
a plan for their extermination. Communicating his scheme secretly, it was soon 
known to all his braves. On the third day, while the Indians were waiting on their 
masters at dinner, at the sound of his war-whoop they were to attack their oppres- 
sors with whatever they could lay hands on, and at once destroy them. At the ap- 
pointed time Vitachuco, Avho was seated near De Soto, sprang upon him and bore 
him to the earth, dealing him such a blow in the face as brought the blood in streams 
from nose, mouth and ej^es. Raising his arm for another blow, which would have 
been death to the Adelantado, he gave a whoop which could be heard for a quarter 
of a league. At that critical moment a dozen swords and lances pierced him, and 
he fell lifeless to the earth. At the signal, his warriors fell upon their masters with 
pots, kettles, pestles and stools, and such arms as they could seize. But they were 
soon overpowered, for they fought in chains. Thus perished Vitachuco, and with 
him, in all, thirteen hundred of his brave warriors. Some of those slain performed 
extraordinary feats of valor. One, who was being led to the market-place to be mur- 
dered after the fight, first lifted his master above his head, and flung him down, so 
that he was stunned, then seized his sword, and, in the words of the Portuguese 
narrative, though "inclosed between fifteen or twenty footmen, made way like a bull, 
with the sword in his hand, until certain halberdiers of the governor came, which 
killed him." Of the Indians who remained alive after the strife was over, about 
two hundred in number, some were given as slaves to those who had the best claim, 
and the rest Avere shot to death in cold blood, by the archers of De Soto's guard, or 
by the Indian allies. After the death of Vitachuco, De Soto turned west through 
the province of Osachile, and, still sorely beset by the Indians, came late in autumn 
to the highlands, in the vicinity of Tallahassee, where the troops spent their first 
winter. 

The months passed, and at length the second year of the expedition opened. The 
land Avas in the bloom of Spring. The new-born leaves seemed to clap their hands 
in joy as they dallied with the soft south breeze ; the sward was tufted with flowers 
of every hue; the air Avas flooded with the mocking-bird's rich and ever changeful 
song; the tender blade cleft the mold; and all the land Avas gay in the garments of 
the opening tropical year. 



FOURTEEN BUSHELS OF PEARLS. 53 

The captives told them of Cofachiqui, a region to the northeast, where the precious 
-earth could be had in plenty; their reports, doubtless, referred to the Georgia and 
South Carolina gold-fields, which other authorities prove to have been early worked 
by the Indians. 

Accompanied on part of their route by four thousand friendly Indians, sent })y the 
€hief of Cofaqui to carry the baggage, and by as many more, under Patofa, the war- 
chief of Cofaqui, as escort; with various lot of hospitable welcome from friendly 
natives, and threatened starvation in immense pine barrens ; now in lonely devouring 
bogs, and then in fertile and cultivated tracts ; here feasting in the midst of plenty, 
there famishing in deserts of sand under pine trees that offered them nothing but a 
tomb — thus they crossed the present State of Georgia diagonally from southwest to 
northeast, until they struck the Savannah River at Silver Bluff. On the opposite 
side was the town of Cofachiqui, where ruled a youthful queen of rare grace and 
beauty. Gliding across the river in a canoe, attended by her principal men, she gave 
the strangers a courteous welcome, presenting to De Soto a pearl necklace a yard and 
a half in length. Commanding her subjects to provide canoes and rafts, the army 
was transported across the river. 

Here the host remained encamped for some weeks, in friendly intercourse with 
this peaceful and hospitable nation. In the tombs of their ancestors the Indians 
showed them vast treasures of pearls, computed to be not less than fourteen bushels, 
of which De Soto, though invited to take them all, preferred to select only a small 
number, leaving the remainder for a subsequent expedition. Here, also, in a depos- 
itory of Indian weapons annexed to a place of burial, they found a Spanish dagger 
and coat of mail, evidently the relics of the expedition of Lucas Vasquez De Ayllon, 
which had come to an end so sorrowful, and so well deserved, fifteen years before. 

After a time there came rumors of gold from the west; and bearing their specimen 
pearls, and inhospitably rewarding good with evil by seizing their beautiful and gen- 
erous young hostess, in order that her authority might secure them good treat- 
ment and safety on the road, they marched across the southern end of the Alle- 
ghany Range to northwestern Georgia. On the road the princess of Cofachiqui 
escaped, carrying a little treasure of valuable pearls. Traveling onward, they 
arrived at Chiaha, where they found a pot of honey, the first and the last seen by 
the expedition, and the only honey mentioned, it is believed, as existing within the 
limits of the United States before its settlement by the whites, who are usually sup- 



54 A WALLED CITY. 

posed to have introduced the bee.* Questioning the chief of Chiaha, if he "had 
notice of any rich countrie," the Indian said that at Chisca, toward the north, there 
was copper, and another finer and softer metal. De Soto sent two envoys with Indian 
guides to find the phice ; but they returned with no gold, and with news of none, 
bearing a buffalo hide for their only prize. Next they traveled through the great 
province of Cosa, supplied by the inhabitants with porters for the baggage, and with 
provisions. Resting in one place twenty days, and twenty-five in another, they 
passed through this, the goodliest land they had yet seen, and bending southward, 
marched by Talise, through the territory now called Alabama, toward the capital of 
a great chief, Tuscaloosa, whom they met upon the border of his dominions, near 
the present city of Montgomery. Tuscaloosa, or Black Warrior, a chieftain of a 
tribe, probably the Choctaws, was the mightiest cacique in all this region ; ruling 
apparently over a great part of the present States of Alabama and Mississippi. He 
was so tall that when mounted upon the largest horse in the army, his feet nearly 
touched the ground. He was eminently handsome, although grave, stern, haughty 
and repellant in demeanor. This magnificent chief, who was born to rule, received 
De Soto, sitting upon a simple wooden throne, and shaded by a broad, round stand- 
ard of painted deer-skin, which was his ensign in war. With a laconic welcome, he 
set out to guide the Spanish commander to his capital, Mauvila, or Maubila, situated 
ten days' march to the southward; a reminiscence of whose name exists in that of 
the city of Mobile. To insure good treatment from the natives, after his custom, 
De Soto surrounded the Black Warrior with a guard, professedly of honor, but 
really to hold him as hostage. This the proud chief at once discovered, but betrayed 
no sign of displeasure. At length, within a day's march of Maubila, De Soto, with a 
hundred horse and a hundred foot, accompanied by Tuscaloosa, pushed forward to 
the capital, leaving the remainder of the force to be brought up by Luis de Moscoso, 
master of the camp. The Adelantado apprehended that danger threatened at 
Maubila, and was in haste to resolve his doubt. Reaching the town early in the 
morning, he found it a walled place. A stockade of great tree trunks had been 
formed, transverse beams had been lashed to these by means of vines, and over all 
was a stucco of mud hardened in the sun. At every fifty paces were towers on the 
walls, capable of holding eight bowmen. Many of the trees in the stockade had sur- 
vived transplanting, and were in full leaf, giving to the fortification a strange beauty. 
The houses were built on broad streets, and, although but eighty in number, were yet 
* Peter Martyr suys that the Mexicans had both honey and wax. 



TUSCALOOSA S DEFIANCE. 



55 



so large that each would hold a thousand persons. In the centre was a o-reat public 
square. The town was built in the midst of a plain, finely situated upon a noble 
bluff of the Alabama River, whose peaceful current was seen in the distance didino- 
between beautiful banks. The other margin of the plain was skirted by a forest. 
Near the western wall was a beautiful limpid lake. 

In obedience to the 
orders of Tuscaloosa, 
booths had been erec- 
ted outside the walls 
for the accommodation 
of the army, while the 
chief house of the town 
had been set apart for 
De Soto and his officers. 

Alighting, the proud 
chief moved haughtily 
off toward his people, 
to see, as he said, that 
all was in readiness for 
his guests. Not return- 
ing, and the houses 
seeming to be filled with 
warriors and young girls 
— many of whom were 
exceedingly beautiful — 
but no old people or 
children appearing, De 
Soto's apprehensions 
were quickened. De- 
sirous of rcffainino; the 
person of Tuscaloosa, 
he sent Juan Ortiz to announce that the Adelantado was waiting breakfast for the 
chief. Thrice w^as the message sent, but no chief appeared. At last a warrior^ 
quitting one of the houses, shouted a threatening defiance to the Spaniards. Balta- 
zar de Gallegos, who was near at hand, cut him down. The warrior's son attempt- 




56 A NINE HOURS BATTLE. 

ing to avenge him, shared his fate. And now began the fight in frightful earnest. 
Indians swarmed from every lodge, and the earth seemed suddenly covered with 
them. De Soto and his men, fighting desperately, fell back outside the walls to 
where the horses were picketed. Gaining these, they flung themselves into the saddle 
and fiercely charged the foe. Backward and forward swept the tide of battle. 
Sometimes, driven by flights of deadly arrows, the Spaniards retreated to the edge 
of the forest. Then rallying, they came thundering down, with the war-cry "San- 
tiago and our Lady," upon the hordes of naked savages awaiting them. These, 
borne down by the terrible shock, retreated to the walls and closed the ponderous 
gates, but sent clouds of deadly missiles against their enemies. Hour after hour the 
battle raged. The mail, the weapons and the discipline of the Spaniards gave them 
a fearful advantage against the naked bodies and undrilled array of the savages ; 
but the odds of numbers were overwhelming, two hundred against thousands — for 
Moscoso had not arrived. He and his men loitered in the shady glades, picking 
grapes and flowers, singing songs of dear old Castile, light of heart that they should 
s( m hear news of Cuba and receive abundant supplies — for it was now October, the 
month in which Maldinado was to be at Pensacola, and hence to that place was less 
than thirty leagues. As thus they loitered in the pleasant woods, the sunny river 
peeping every now and then between the branches, the land seemed as lovely as the 
valley of the Xenil, outspread beneath the towers of the Alhambra. 

But suddenly the distant sound of trumpet calls, and shouts and savage war-cries 
were faintly heard, far in front ; and soon they discerned a column of smoke slowly 
risino; into the air in the distance. There was a battle ! 

The word was passed along the line; stragglers fell in, and at a rapid pace came 
the reinforcements. The battle raged with redoubled fury; the Spaniards dashed at 
the gates and forced them. The streets and the square were filled with combatants 
and corpses. The Christians' war-cry joined with the deafening shout of the Indians. 
They fell like grain before the mower's scythe under the swords and lances of their 
f oemen ; yet no one cried for quarter. The only targets which the steel-clad Span- 
iards offered the Indian archers were mouth and eyes and the joints of the armor. 
The Indian women joined their husbands and lovers in the fight, and were the fiercest 
of the throng. Everywhere De Soto was seen in the thickest of the melee. Eising 
in his stirrups to deal a fatal bloAv, an arrow struck him in the thigh through the 
openings of his armor. Thenceforth he fought standing in his stirrups. The Span- 
iards had fired the town, and the flames spread fearfully, enwrapping every dwelling. 



A NINE HOURS BATTLE. 



57 



As their forked tongues lapped up Maubila and its brave people, the sun, hidden by 
clouds of smoke, was casting a sickly glare from behind the tree-tops. The tragedy 



-"^^. 




DE SOTO PIERCED WITH AN ARROW. 



was finished. Nine hours the battle raged. At least five thousand Indians were 
slain. Nor was the plight of the Spaniards enviable. Eighty-two of their best 



58 THE MARCH RESUMED. 

warriors had fiillen, while among the survivors seventeen hundred grievous wounds 
were distributed, and there was but one surgeon in the camp, and he unskilled. 
Fortj-tAA^o horses, mourned as companions and friends, were slain. All the camp 
furniture, baggage and supplies, the pearls and trophies of savage wealth which had 
been placed in the houses or carelessly cast down about the walls, were consumed, 
and most of all the wheaten flour and wine, preserved with sedulous care for the 
eucharist, were burned also. 

For twenty-eight days the column remained in the vicinity, recovering from the 
wounds and fatigue of this conflict. It was then ready to move, but whither? The 
port of Ochu, on the Gulf, was but seven days march to the southeast, and there 
De Soto knew that Arias and Maldinado, his lieutenants, were waiting with a ship- 
load of provisions and supplies for founding a colony. But the army was discon- 
tented with so much fighting and hardship. and no treasure, and, he was certain, once 
at the sea coast, would desert in a body, seize the ships, and sail for Mexico or Peru. 
There was gold for him who would win it; here was only toil, wounds, danger, fe- 
vers and death. 

No new troops would undertake an enterprise already branded with failure ; and 
he had no second vast fortune to embark in the undertaking. He had staked his all 
on this one throw — fortune, fame, hope, honor, life. Should he now slink back to 
Cuba, a hundred of his brave companions dead, poor in purse, vanquished by the 
poverty and the savageness of these wild forests and grassy savannas? These bitter 
reflections drove him to a desperate resolution, which he seems here deliberately to 
have formed, and silently to have adhered to until just before his death ; namely, to 
send home no news of himself until he had found the rich regions which he had set out 
to seek. And, as if he had at the same time been hopeless of success, and acted merely 
in shame and desperation, his demeanor was henceforth changed. Always stern and 
reserved, he grew now moody, silent, savage. The word of command was given, 
and the line of march resumed to the northwest, back into the wild forests, away 
from ships and home. And none dared demand a reason from the gloomy and severe 
commander. They resumed the march Sunday, November 18th, 1540. Crossing the 
Black Warrior and Tombigbee Rivers, they at length reached the heart of the Chick- 
asaw country, in the northeastern part of Mississippi, Avliere at a little village, 
Chicasa, they passed their second winter. On the 25th of the following April the 
army set forward for a third summer's wandering in quest of gold, marching north- 
westward. At the fortress of Alibamo, on one of the head branches of the Yazoo, 



THE MISSISSIPPI FOUND. 59 

the Indians made a resolute stand ; but the invincible Spaniards took it by storm, 
and put to the sword all who fell into their hands. Hence to the northwestern cor- 
ner of Mississippi or southwestern of Tennessee they journeyed, through dark for- 
ests and tangled swamps, until they struck a mighty river, which they named Rio 
Grande (Great River). The Mississippi was found. 

In April, 1541, they stood upon the bluffs which overlooked it. This was the 
pioneer pilgrimage of European civilization to its banks, the advance guard of that 
innumerable multitude which was here to be gathered to make another attempt to 
solve the problem of man's relation to the earth, his neighbor and his God. 

Building boats, they crossed the river, and after four days' march into the wilder- 
ness beyond, came to the village of Casqui, or Casquin, supposed to have been in- 
habited by the Kaskaskian Indians, afterward settled in Illinois. This village was 
in a province also called Casqui, and governed by a cacique of the same name. The 
chief inhabited a village about seven leagues further on, where he hospitably received 
the army, and furnished it with provisions and quarters. 

During the encampment here, the chief supplicated De Soto to pray to his God 
for rain, which was much needed. Whereupon the Spanish commander caused a 
vast cross to be erected in a commanding situation on a lofty hill near the river, and 
consecrated it by a solemn religious ceremony, in which both Spaniards and Indians 
joined. Then De Soto endeavored to make Casqui understand how prayers should 
be offered to the one invisible God, and related to him the life and sufferings of 
Christ. 

As the intonations of the Litany, and the solemn strains of Te Deum Laudamus 
rose upon the air, the children of the forest took up the strain, with plaintive voice 
and uplifted eye, invoking the w^hite man's God. Here, then, upon the shore of the 
Father of Waters, in the northeastern corner of Arkansas, was the symbol of our 
religion first planted, eighty years before a Puritan had touched the rock at Plymouth. 
And as if to substantiate the instructions of the Spanish commander, a plenteous 
shower of rain came down that very night. 

De Soto marched but a few leagues above this "Village of the Cross," but sent 
runners into the hill country to the westward where the natives said there was gold. 
They returned in eleven days wnth a quantity of rock-salt, but no gold. The Indians 
described the country to the north as being cold, barren and overrun with buffaloes ; 
De Soto, therefore, went no farther in that direction, but turned to the southeast, and 
entered upon that long and dreary circuit in the regions of the Arkansas and Red 



60 DEATH OF JUAN ORTIZ. 

Rivers, which at last brought him back to the shores of the Mississippi, to die. He 
passed through Cohgoa, at the foot of a mountain, be3'ond which he fancied there 
might be gold ; came to Palisema, in the country of Cayas ; to Tunica, where were 
found salt-lakes, from which the army furnished itself with a quantity of good salt ; 
to Tula or Tulla, whose inhabitants, differing from all they had met before, were ex- 
ceedingly ill-looking, having immense heads, artificially narrowed at the top, and faces 
horribly tattooed ; whose ferocity was more brutal and untamable than that of any 
race they had met before, and who could not be terrified by threats and slaughter, 
nor cajoled by gifts. Thence they marched to Utiangue or Autiamque, where, for- 
tifying part of a large village, the forlorn Spanish host went into winter quarters for 
the third time. The cold was severe, the snow deep, and the attacks of the savages 
incessant; but as food and fuel were plentiful, the condition of the troops was, on 
the whole, quite comfortable. 

In Autiamque died Juan Ortiz, the interpreter, an irreparable loss to De Soto, who 
henceforth found great difficulty in maintaining even a circuitous and obscure inter- 
course with the natives. 

When the Spring returned there remained of the army of a thousand men, only 
three hundred soldiers, besides non-combatants; and of three hundred and fifty 
horses, only fort}^ and many of these lame and useless, and all unshod during the 
year past, for want of iron. Fatigue, sickness, privation, and the weapons of the 
fierce savages of the Mobilian and Muscogee races, had destroyed the rest. And even 
this scanty remainder was destitute and discouraged. The disastrous fires of Maubila 
and Chicasa had devoured clothing, arms and wealth. They were now dressed in 
skins, and their weapons were, in many cases, such as they had wrought out them- 
selves. His goodly armament thus worn out and wasted in endless hostilities with 
the savages, and thus rapidly diminishing, and his hopes of gold so long disappointed, 
even the obstinate and persevering courage and hopefulness of De Soto began to fail ; 
and he at length decided to return to the Mississippi, fortify himself there, build ves- 
sels, and send to Cuba for supplies and men. 

The troops accordingly set forward from Autiamque on Monday, March 6th, 1542, 
being now the fourth year of their wanderings; and going through Ayas, or Ajays, 
and Tultelpina, reached Amilco, capital of the province of that name, a country more 
fertile and prosperous than any they had yet seen, except Cosa and Appalache. 
Hence they proceeded to Guachoya, on the Mississippi, apparently at the mouth of 
the Arkansas, where De Soto proposed to establish himself and build his vessels. 



DE SOTO's LAST ILLNESS. ()1 

Setting the necessary preparations on foot, De Soto, having heard of a certain 
powerful chieftain called Quigalta, or Quigaltanqui, ruling a vast province on the op- 
posite side of the Great River, sent an embassy to him to say that he, De Soto, was 
the child of the sun ; that all men along his road had hitherto obeyed and served him ; 
and requiring Quigalta to accept his friendship and come to him, bringing him some- 
thing valuable in token of love and obedience. But the chief dryly and sourly an- 
swered that if De Soto were the child of the sun, he might dry up the river, and he 
would believe him ; and as to the rest of the message, that he was wont to visit no- 
body, but that all were wont to visit him and pay tribute to him. That, therefore, 
if De Soto desired to see him, it was best that he should cross the river himself and 
come ; that if he came in peace, he should be received with special good will ; but 
if in war, he, Quigalta, would wait for him in the same place, and would not shrink 
one foot back for him or any other. 

But when the messenger came back with this keen and haughty reply, the Adelan- 
tado was already on a sick-bed, confined with a slow fever. Ill as he was, he was ir- 
ritated at the bold savage, and still more that he was unable to cross the river and 
seek him, to abate his pride. But the Indians were so numerous and so fierce, his 
own forces now so reduced, and the current of the vast river so furious and danger- 
ous, that he was fain to think upon fair means, instead of foul. 

And even w^hile lying here, sick and discouraged, while the fever grew upon him, 
De Soto performed an action most characteristic of the deliberate, bloody-minded, 
brutal carelessness with which the Spaniards of that day regarded the Indians. Many 
reports came in of proposed attacks upon the camp, sometimes from one side of the 
river, sometimes from the other. In order, therefore, to intimidate the tribes about 
him, De Soto determined to devote one of them to destruction, and accordingly, 
sending a sufficient force, surprised the town of Amilco. The fierce troopers burst 
upon this peaceful and unsuspecting village, with orders not to spare the life of any 
male; and not only was this cruel order fulfilled, but sundry of the soldiers slew all 
who came in their way, though the surprise was so complete that not an arrow was 
shot at any Christian. This savage butchery was an astonishment even to the Indian 
allies who accompanied the troops, and served no good turn ; and it was afterwards 
noticed that those most active in it showed themselves cowards where true valor was 
needed, and that shameful deaths were visited on them in retribution. 

But all the earthly projects of De Soto now drew to a close. Deeply feeling his 
fatal error in Avanderinjr so far from the sea, grieved at the losses and sufferings of 



62 



DEATH AND BURIAL OF DE SOTO. 



his men, harrassed with anxious forebodings as to the future, and his powerful frame 
at last undermined and shattered by the destructive climatic fever, he sank rapidly; 
and helpless and hopeless, one of the noblest cavaliers of the age lay dying in a rude 
Indian wigwam. Instead of gaining vast treasures, he had lost them. Instead of 
founding an empire, he had exterminated a savage tribe or two, but had scarcely re- 
tained his authority over the relics of his small and shattered army. Instead of win- 
ning world-wide renown, he had disappeared from view in those vast western Avilder- 
nesses, and for years had not even been heard of by Christian men. A sad and dis- 
astrous close for an expedition whose outset was so splendid and hopeful. 

And now his last hour drew nigh, and with the steady courage of a soldier, Her- 
nando De Soto calmly prepared to die. He made his will, requested his officers to 

elect a captain to suc- 
ceed him, and when 
they in turn, desired 
him to choose, ap- 
pointed Luis Moscoso 
de Alvarado, remem- 
bering only the virtues 
and ability of that cap- 
tain, and no longer pre- 
serving anger for the er- 
rors for which he had 
removed him from his 
place of camp-master. 
He caused the officers and troops to swear obedience to their new leader, and then, call- 
ing officers to him by twos and threes, and the soldiers by twenties and thirties, thanked 
them for their love and loyalty to him, expressing his regret at leaving them unremu- 
nerated for all their toils ; charged them to remain at peace with each other, and asked 
pardon for any wrong or offense of which he might have been guilty toward them ; 
and so, with tenderness, he bade them all farewell. Thus, resigning his soul to God, 
and confessing his sins, three years absent from Donna Isabella, and in the forty-third 
year of his age, on the 21st of May, 1542, perished in the wilderness, Hernando 
De Soto. 




BUKIAL OK DE SOTO. 



64 TRIALS OF DE SOTO's FOLLOWERS. 

Anxious to conceal his death from the natives, and thus to preserve the spell of 
his name, his companions, with whispered praj^ers, and silent but fast-falling tears, 
buried him in the darkness in a pit, near the village of Guachoya, where they were 
encamped. But fearing lest the body should be discovered by the savages and sub- 
jected to outrage, they disinterred it the following night, and, having prepared a 
coffin of evergreen oak, bore it to the middle of the Great Eiver, and sank it in a 
hundred feet of water. A sullen plunge, a murmured requiescat in pace from 
priest and cavalier, and the canoes returned to land. The army mourned as if every 
man had lost a father. 

Nevertheless, they resolved to abandon his plans and strike westward, thus hoping 
to reach Mexico; not seeming to know that their latitude was far north of that. 
Westward for months they wandered through swamp and canebrake, now in luxuriant 
meadows, and again in waste, howling wildernesses. Waylaid by savages, famishing, 
nearly naked, they kept on until the eye was filled with mountains towering to heaven. 
Back in haste; no Mexico was there. Eeturning, they were overtaken by fall rains, 
and winter rigors. Jaded, dispirited, miserable, their numbers reduced to three hun- 
dred and fifty, they reached Minoya, on the Mississippi, late in the year. Here they 
summoned all their remaining energies and resources, and girded themselves for a last 
desperate struggle with fate. By spring they had built seven brigantines, of short 
and thin planks, insufficiently nailed together, undecked, and calked only with bark 
and grass. In these, on the second day of July, 1543, they departed, three hundred 
and twenty-two Spaniards all told, taking twenty-two of the horses alive, and the 
rest salted for provisions; and leaving the wretched inhabitants of Minoya starving 
for want of the maize which the Spaniards had used for subsistence and for pro- 
visioning their vessels. They also left at their place of embarkation five hundred 
Indian slaves, retaining a number, including twenty or thirty women. Committing 
themselves to the current, they floated down the river for nineteen days and nights, 
beset a great part of the way by a flotilla of canoes filled with hostile Indians who 
kept up incessant assaults upon them, by which they lost all their surviving horses 
and over fifty men ; having now no weapons left except a few swords and shields, 
and being thus helpless against the arrows of the savages. This V03'age down the 
river was subsequently computed at five hundred leagues. 

They reached the Gulf, and here, trusting themselves in their frail brigantines to 
the treacherous deep, after a painful and eventful voyage, they reached the river 
and village of Panuco, in Mexico. They were kindly received, and Mendoza, the 



DEATH OF DONNA ISABELLA. 



65 



viceroy, caused them to be brought to the city of Mexico, where they were treated 
with much attention and honor. Less than three hundred survivors of that o-allant 
expedition, which, four years before, had set out from Cuba with much music and re- 
joicing, now appeared, haggard, blackened, with tangled hair, skins of wild beasts 
almost their only covering, a wretched band of wrecked, despairing men. And even 
i;ow the hearts of all lusted for Florida again. Each cursed his fellow as the cause 
of his leaving that land, which they averred to be the goodliest on which the sun 
shone. Fierce words and fiercer blows were given, and thus, amid execrations and 
contentions, these worthies disappear from history. 




^x<*- 



AMERICA DISCOVERED, OCTOBER I2TH, 1492. 



A word of Donna Isabella, fair, hapless lady. Faithfully she had sent Captains 
Maldinado and Gomez Arias with ships and plentiful supplies in the fall of 1540. 
Waiting for a long time, they then coasted east and west in search of intelligence 
concerning the Adelantado. The next spring they came again, and the next, and the 
next, spending each summer in searching for some traces of the ill-fated party. At 
length, in 1543, the tireless captains touched at Vera Cruz, and heard the sad tid- 
ings. Hastening to Havana, they broke the news to Donna Isabella. Having long 
borne up against racking suspense and torturing doubt, hoping against hope, she now 
yielded, and died in the prime of her glorious beauty, the victim of ill-fated love and 

man's wild ambition. 
5 



AToTCHflSl 






^ 



I 






Em A MSB TH 



■P^Ninsstt 




FMl SIMILE 

MISSISSIPPI 

OR 

Conception r\iVer, 

Drau/n ^y 

Ffom /-^f Ori^inoL ^rpieri/pc^ »/ 



AOx/Vw/iS/^fii-iff}. 



JiUfiN^t/^ 



/flflicrt/ 



CG6) 



CHAPTER II. 

THE CROSS. 

FATHER MARQUETTE AND HIS DISCOVERY. 

THE FRENCH IN THE GREAT VALLEY. DARING OF THK CROSS. MARTYRS FOR CHRIST. 

TOUGES. BREBOEUK. L'ALLEMAND. RAMBOUT. JOLIET. MARQUETTE, THE APOSTLE. 

HIS BIRTH AND LINEAGE. HIS MISSIONARY LABORS. DISCOVERS THE MISSISSIPPI. 

HIS SAD DEATH. 

ALTHOUGH the Spaniard was the first to discover the Mississippi, he was 
not the first to explore and colonize its valley. That honor was reserved 
for another nation akin in blood and one in faith — the French. De Soto founded 
no settlements and left no enduring traces of his discovery. For more than 
a century after his death the West remained to Europeans a terra incognita. France, 
jealous of her neighbor Spain, and eager to gain a foothold in the new El Dorado, be- 
gan her explorations in the North. In 1535, six j'-ears before De Soto's discovery, 
Jacques Cartier, a French navigator, discovered and entered the St. Lawrence, and 
took formal possession of North America in the name of Francis I. of France. It 
was not, however, until 1608, that a permanent settlement was effected at Quebec. 
In exploring and developing their new possessions, the French kings, with rare tact, 
made use of two agents, the Jesuit missionaries and the fur-traders, or voyageurs. 
Trade carried its votaries far into the wilderness, over pathless snows, through inter- 
minable forests, up mighty rivers, over the bosom of lakes that seemed like seas. 
The spell of gold was mighty then, as now^; but for once Traffic was outdone by Re- 
ligion, and the Cross inspired men with a daring enterprise and lofty resolution, such 
as the world has seldom witnessed. 

Father Dreuillettes penetrated the forest lying between the St. Lawrence and the 
Kennebec, down which he floated to the sea. Sojourning with the savages ten 
months, bearing them company in their hunts, suffering hardships like a good 

67 



1B8 



YONGES RUNS THE GAUNTLET. 



soldier, everywhere showing fortitude and courage, patience and strength equal to 
their own, he completely won their love and reverence. Yonges, taken prisoner by 




YONGES COMPELLED TO RUN THE GAUNTLET BY THE IROQUOIS. 

the Iroquois, was made to run the gauntlet three times, suffered torment of many 
kinds, saw his converts inhumanly butchered, cheered them by his ministrations of 



INDIAN TORTURES. 



69 



pitying love, although by so doing he exposed himself to their fate; and raising the 
chant in his captive journeyiugs, provoking the brutality of his persecutors by 
steadfastness, carving the cross on the trees near Albany, he showed himself faithful 
in all things. At length, liberated by the Dutch of New York, he sailed for France, 




MARQUETTE DESCENDING THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER. 



as the only way by which he could reach Canada again, returned thither, went upon 
an embassy of peace to his old tormentors, the Mohawks, and there met the death of 
which he had had presentiment. 

Daniel fell beneath the remorseless blows of the same barbarians, as he knelt in 
pious ministry to the spiritual needs of his Huron converts. Breboeuf, a strong 



70 MARTYRDOM OF BREBOEUF AND L ALLEMAND. 

man whose brawny courage knew no fear, whose ruling passion was a cupidity for 
martyrdom, could yet in humble patience bide his Master's time. Employing him- 
self the while in uninterrupted missionary labors, he was taken with his associate, 
L'Allemand, a man of delicate frame but dauntless courage, by the Iroquois, in the 
midst of their neophytes. They refused to save themselves by flight, lest the offices 
of the Church should thereby be lost to the dying around them. Breboeuf was tied 
to a stake, and, exhorting his tormentors to repentance, and his converts to be faith- 
ful even until death, his brother priest was led before him robed in a garment of bark 
filled with rosin. As the torch was applied the shrinking L'Allemand exclaimed, 
"We are made a spectacle this day unto men and angels." Breboeuf 's holy counsels 
were checked as his upper lip was cut off and hot irons thrust down his throat. 
He, too, was set on fire, and then boiling water was poured over both to extinguish 
the flames. Breboeuf entered through the gates into the City above, Jerusalem, the 
Mother of us all, in three hours. L'Allemand lingered seventeen; then he, too, 
joined that company which no man can number, that have come up out of great trib- 
ulation. When we hear of faith and love like theirs, can we say, contemptuously, 
"they were Jesuits," and forget that they were also Christians sealing their tes- 
timony with their blood? 

As the ranks were thus thinned, they were filled by others, who pressed forward, 
coveting to wear the thorny crown, persuaded that in due time it would become a 
crown of glory. Among these was James Marquette, a young Frenchman. Born 
in the small but stately city of Laon, perched upon a hill-side in the province of 
Aisne, his family name was an illustrious one in the annals of France before his time, 
and has been since. Our own land is indebted to others bearing it, besides himself. 
Three Marquettes fell in the French army which aided in our Eevolutionary struggle. 

Born in 1637, our young Frenchman's early years were blessed by the care of a 
devout, godly mother, who infused into his mind a reverent simplicity and an ardent 
love which kept him pure until the end. At seventeen, Marquette renounced the 
world and became a Jesuit. Twelve years were spent in teaching, and then, burning 
with a holy zeal to do good to the heathen, his mind inflamed by the devotion of 
Francisco Xavier, the model he had chosen for imitation and emulation, he embarked 
for Canada in 1666. Buoyant with health and hopes of usefulness, the young mis- 
sionary touched the shores of the new world. Behind him rolled the sea which sep- 
arated him from home, friends and mother. Before him lay a wilderness continent, 
with its mighty lakes and rivers, its inaccessible forests and endless plains, now clad 



Marquette's high resolve. 



71 



in verdure, and then garmented in snow and ice. The roving tribes that peopled the 
land were savages ; but they had souls to be saved. True, their tomahawks had 
drank the blood of his brethren, and their scalping knives were yet red with the gore 
of martyrs. Still they had immortal souls which might be won for Christ. Was it 
not work for an angel? Surely it was for a Christian disciple. But he might per- 
ish? No matter. Would he not fall with his face toward Zion, die where he niiofht? 
So he girded up his loins, and betook him to his labor. 




SCENE ON KED RIVER. 



Not in haste are life's great achievements wrought; but slowly, and by sure de- 
grees. So Marquette first studied the Indian dialects, becoming a learner, that he 
might fitly teach. 

He was destined to a mission far to the northward, and we find him in 1667 at 
Three Rivers, preparing himself under Father Dreuillettes. But this design was 
abandoned, and he was next appointed to the Ottawa Mission — as that of Lake Su- 
perior was then called — to labor with Father Allouez. Quebec had been founded by 



72 WORK AT STE. MARIE. 

Champlain in 1608. Le Barron, a Recollet missionary who came with him, had as- 
cended the Ottawa Eiver, and reached Lake Huron. In 1629, Canada fell into the 
hands of the English, but in 1631 it was restored to France. In 1639, Nicolet, in- 
terpreter of the colony, had descended the Wisconsin to within three days' sail of 
the Mississippi, or sea, as he understood the Indian name, "Great Water," to mean. 
Two years later Isaac Yonges and Charles Rambout, Jesuits, stood upon Sault Ste. 
Marie, looking down upon the land of the Sioux, and the basin of the Mississippi, 
with hearts longing to enter it. But an Iroquois war, the next year, frustrated their 
design. Thus, while the Dutch of New Netherlands were huddled around Fort 
Orange, five years before Eliot addressed his first Indian audience six miles from 
Boston, and while the country between Massachusetts Bay and Connecticut was a 
pathless wilderness, Jesuit Fathers stood upon the water-shed dividing the streams 
of the Atlantic from those of the Gulf. 

But to return to our young missionary, whom we left in Canada a little over thirty 
years of age, about to embark for his field of labor, the Ottawa' Mission. His ulti- 
mate destination was the founding of an establishment among the Illinois; but the 
novice must be tried in a vineyard already opened, before he attempted to plant one 
himself. 

The south shore of Superior, near Ste. Marie, and then La Pointe, were the centers 
of his operations. Allouez had gone to Green Bay, and so up Fox River, and he was 
alone with the savages. But not the less faithfully did he labor, that he had no 
superior to overlook him, nor brother to give him sympathy. 

It is pleasant and helpful, too, to read the unvarnished tale of this simple-minded 
man's efforts to do good to the untutored children of the forest; how he taught them 
lessons of virtue and chastity, of forbearance and forgiveness of injuries; how he 
strove to win them from their idle superstitions to the worship of the living and true 
God; to go with him as he administered the holy rite of baptism to a djing child, or 
spoke kind words to sick and suffering men and women ; to be near him as he de- 
voutly performed the offices of the church, or expounded the mysteries of the faith 
in his little thatched chapel of bark. He withstood the proud and willful to their 
face ; the wayward he admonished firmly but gently ; he cheered the penitent and 
encouraged the desponding ; everj^where striving to do the work of an evangelist, 
and make full proof of his ministry. Ever and anon news of the great river and the 
mijrhtv tribes inhabiting its banks reached him, and he longed to discover it and 
them. His heart yearned for the Illinois, for were they not his people ? But the time 



,^» Carte de la^ Louisiane ' 




Note.— The manuscript from which the above Map was prepared, was found in the 
said to bear date the year 1700.* If so, it is evident that after the original ]^-eparation 
above contains items of as late a date as 1717. Also is to be noted the fact that while a 
be found in the lower right hand corner, to-wit: '^DeSoto landed ?51 May, 1539."' Thisi 
creation and at a time subsequent to its original preparation. — Author. 

(*•) Edmund J. Forstall, in French's Historical nollections of Louisiana, part II. 



w 



Du Cqurs du Missis sipi 




:bliotheque du Roi." in Paris, in :i Volume of Lallaipe's Journeys of iaN-lr2-_. It is 

before publication some one has a.ldecl matter subsequently ascertaiDetl, for the y\\\^ 

16 other parts of the Map are in the French language, one single English phrase is to 

lid indicate that some one other than the original draughtsman had taken part m its 



ARRIVAL OF JOLIET. 77 

had not come yet. The discoverer of the age must wait, as who must not? History 
were indeed a dead letter — were less serviceable by half than the debris of perished 
races, whereon the geologist reads the autograph of every separate cycle — did we not 
gather from it words and thoughts to inspire ourselves with strength. 

Next year he would go to the Illinois. He had been studying their language from 
a young Indian of that tribe, and was already pretty well master of the tongue. But 
his hope was defeated, for a war broke out between the Sioux and the people among 
whom he lived. With them he must voyage eastward, Avith his back upon the land 
of promise. But at length he stood with his Hurons at Mackinaw, and his glance 
wandered over the lake to the west and southwest ; it journeyed whither his feet 
would go, his mouth filled wnth glad tidings to the people of the Illinois and the river 
Mississippi. 

Long, as men count it, must he yet wait. Nevertheless, humbly but fervently did 
he pray that, if it were Heaven's will, he might go wdiither his heart led. At last, 
on the eve of the festival of the Immaculate Conception, the feast of all the year to 
him, a canoe from Canada came up the glassy plain. Its occupant Avas the Lieuten- 
ant Joliet, an old fur-trader, and he brought important letters to Father Marquette. 

The minister of France had written to Talon, Intendant of Canada, to cause the 
South Sea to be discovered. This Avas the vision of the time, as the short route to 
China and Japan has been of ours. Then, they thought a river might bear them on 
its brimmino; flood to the South Sea; now the iron road Avill take us thither. M. de 
Talon, the retiring governor, suggested to Frontenac, the newly appointed, that 
Joliet Avas the best man for the purpose, and the ecclesiastical authorities appointed 
Father Marquette. Here were the letters. The winter Avas spent at MackinaAV in 
preparation. With croAvds of Indians around them, the trader and the priest, kneel- 
ing on the ground, drcAV maps of such countries as the savages knew, lying toward 
the setting sun. After much study and prayer, Avith great hopes, yet loAvly hearts, 
our friends set out for their long journey in the spring of 1673. 

Across the lake to Green Bay, then to the head of Fox River, wdiere Avas an Indian 
village, in the center of Avhich stood a great cross planted by the zeal of Allouez, 
and crowned by the Indians Avith Avampum and peltries of the choicest kind. The 
Indians, with hearts Avarmed toAvard the French, thronged around Marquette and 
Joliet Avith proffers of hospitality and kindness ; but Avhen told the object of their 
expedition their faces expressed great solicitude, and their mouths Avere filled Avith 
dismal tales of the dangers of the Avav. The land of the great river, and the vast 



78 



IN SEARCH OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 



stream itself were filled with frightful monsters and terrible men. Every effort was 
made to dissuade the good father and his party from their mad enterprise. But they 
were not to be moved. A 
party of Indians helped them 
across the portage to the 
Wisconsin River, where 
they were quitted by their 
guides. Launching their ca- 
noe, they commended their 
way to God and committed 
themselves to the stream of 




MARQUETTE, JOLTET AND GUIDE CROSSING THE WISCONSIN RIVKK. 

the sky-colored water. Floating upon its tranquil bosom seven days, they passed 
through a country of marvelous beauty and fertility. It was the month of June, and 



"THE CONCEPTION." 79 

nature had donned her gayest colors. Vines cUimbcred among the trees. Sometimes 
from a bold bank the grassy plain stretched as far as the eye could reach, without a 
mound or grove to obstruct the view — the green land at last melting into the blue- 
rimmed horizon. Then the bottom land, meeting them with verdant freshness at the 
river's edge, was terminated ere long in a noble bluff whose sides and summit were 
crowned with stately trunks and branching foliage casting lines of grateful shadow 
on the sward. The unflecked blue above them painted itself in the flood, seeming to 
create an azure vault beneath their birch pirogue. The breezy stillness was only 
broken by the river's lapse, the paddle's dip, or their own low murmurs of delight at 
the fairy-land scene around them. Thus for a week they floated, until, on June 17th, 
their placid stream swept them with its parting wave into the swifter current of the 
Great River, whose afiluents make glad a continent. Streams with broader openings 
to the sea there are, with grander historic associations, with more romantic mem- 
ories thronging their banks; but what one of all earth's water-courses can vie with 
this in its majestic appeal to the imagination and the hope of mankind? 

A great, silent joy was in Marquette's heart, and as grateful tears wet his eyes, he 
offered a fervent thanksgiving that he had been permitted to look upon this Avonder. 
The devout spirit thought of the greatest birth of time, and in commemoration of it 
he named the river "The Conception." This was the 17th of June, 1673. 

For eight days they glided over the crystal pavement between shores widening to 
the distance of a half league, and then approaching in rocky bluffs, as if they were 
the towers and battlements of hostile cities, to within a few hundred j'ards. In 
vernal pasture-lands they beheld the moose, and elk, and deer, cropping the herbage; 
and lower down vast herds of buffalo grazed in the meadows, and the woods were 
filled with flocks of wild turkeys. But for fifteen days they had not come in sight or 
trace of habitation of human beings. At length they discerned a well-marked trail 
on the west bank of the river, and landed to seek the men whose feet had left it. 
Silently, with minds moved alternately by hopes and fears, Marquette and Joliet 
proceeded six miles, when they descried three Indian villages. Uttering a loud cry, 
they rapidly approached them. A company of old men came forth to meet them, 
and when asked by Marquette who they were, replied, "We are Illinois." Great 
was the good father's joy. He explained who he and his companion were, where- 
upon they were joyfully welcomed with the peace-pipe. Then followed a six-days' 
feast. Heartily did the simple natives urge the Frenchmen to tarry with them. But 
their task was not half performed, and they must up and away. Taking an affec- 



!ii!iiiiiw;:!;;i:iiiiiiii 



iliiililiiliiiliiiillililllllill 




DOWN THE "GREAT RIVER." 81 

tionate leave of their kind hosts, they were escorted to their canoe and presented 
with a calumet magnificently adorned, than which no more valuable gift could have 
been made them. 

Passing the mouth of the Illinois, our voyagers sighted the Piasau Bluff, where 
frightful monsters were traced upon stupendous rocks, and the relics of a rude 




•'AND VAST IIKRDS OF BUFFALO GHAZED IN THE MEADOWS."' 

limning are still to be seen. Soon after they passed the mouth of the Missouri, and 
continuinor on reached the Ohio, then called the Ounbachi, or river of the Shawnees. 
Still descending, they came to the warm lands of the cane, where the mosquitoes 
seemed to be holding a carnival. Wrapping themselves in their sails as a protection 
against the fierce insects, thev were after a time hailed from the shore by a party of 
wild wanderers, who were armed with guns and knives, obtained, they said, by trading 



82 LOCATING THE MOUTH OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 

with Christians to the eastward. Further on they were threatened by a hostile 
demonstration from a large party of natives, who advanced with menaces and brand- 
ished arms to meet them. It was a trying moment. But Marquette Avas equal to it. 
Invoking the protection of the Virgin Mother, he calmly stood in the prow of his 
bark, holding aloft the calumet. It saved their lives. The warriors were pacified, 
received the strangers kindly, and entertained them with great courtesy. This was 
about the thirty-third parallel of latitude. Below this our little party only ventured 
ten leagues. They learned that the sea was ten days sail to the south ; and that there 
were many tribes near it who traded with Europeans and who were at war among them- 
selves. Satisfying themselves that the river emptied between Florida and Tampico, 
and fearing to fall into the hands of the Spaniard, they determined to return. The 
main object of the enterprise was accomplished. Until this time it had been a vexed 
question whether the great river emptied into the sea near Virginia, into the Gulf of 
Mexico or into that of California. Having discovered the river, learned the location 
of its mouth, and above all else in the mind of the good Marquette, preached the 
religion of the Cross to the heathen, opening the way for other missionaries, they 
re-ascended to the mouth of the Illinois, to the head of which they went, passing 
through the most delectable land they had yet looked upon. Here they were met by 
the Kaskaskias, who hailed them with great joy, and conducted them in triumph 
across the portage to the lake, for Marquette promised to return and preach to 
them. 

Four months after setting out, they reached the mission of St. Francis Xavier; 
and thus these seven men — five boatmen bore them compan}^ — performed one of the 
most notable feats of history. The following spring Joliet embarked for Quebec, 
but as he was attempting to shoot a rapid in the St. Lawrence, not far from his des- 
tination, his canoe upset, causing the loss of his journal and maps, and nearly of his 
life. We catch one more look at this worthy on the island of Anticosti, in the Gulf 
of St. Lawrence, which was granted him for his services : and then the shadow of Joliet 
joins his fellow-shades and vanishes forever. 

Marquette, without thought of worldly fame or honors, or reward of any kind, 
studied only how he might recruit his health, which had been sadly shattered, and 
thereby be able to redeem his pledge to the Kaskaskias. This was his only earthly 
wish — to preach to his beloved Illinois. He shall not die until it be fulfilled. 

Spending the winter of 1674—5 near the southern shore of Lake Michigan, 
where the great city of Chicago now stands, in great feebleness, suffering from 



Marquette's sad death. 83 

cold and want, but cheered bj a peaceful, loving heart, he was able to reach 
his Indians in the spring, and solemnize among them the Easter ceremonies. But 
his old malady returned. Nothing was left him now but to die. And with the 
mighty instinct of the human heart, longing to breath his last among his brethren, 
he bade farewell to his sorrowing converts, and took his way to Mackinaw. His 
three faithful boatmen accompanied him, tending him with all gentle care, lifting 
him in and out of the canoe, for the wasted man was too weak to walk. As they 
reached the outlet of a small stream in Michigan, which now bears his name, he could 
go no further. A rude lodge was reared on the edge of the stream, with an altar 
before which the dying saint was laid. He calmly gave directions to his sobbing 
attendants concerning his burial. They took his crucifix from the breast where it 
had lain through all these years of self-renouncing toils, and held it up before him. 
His face glowed with a holy transport, as if it were an angel's. One word, "Jesus," 
was on his lips, and then — he was dead. 

It was well. Nine years of untiring labor for the salvation of the heathen, a life 
of perfect self-abnegation, a discovery rivalling in importance any ever made, were 
thus terminated by a lonely death on a desolate shore. Thus died Xavier, his elected 
model, after living as he had lived. Two years after, in 1677, a flotilla of canoes 
from Mackinaw came to that dark wood at the mouth of the little river; the Indians, 
among whom he had long and faithfully labored, exhumed his remains and bore 
them to Mackinaw. A fleet. advancing from the shore met them; Avith tearful eyes^ 
and amid the slow, solemn strains of "De Profundis," chanted by priests and Indians, 
the remains Avere borne to the shore and fi-nallj^ deposited beneath the church, on 
whose site he had so often led their worship. 

For many a long 3'ear after, when the forest rangers abroad upon the stormy lake 
were endangered by sudden tempest or wild billows, their piteous cries were heard, 
and Marquette was the name they cried, asking his intercession, as of an all-powerful 
and undoubted saint. 

Important as his discovery was, it is certain that it would have been of slight ad- 
vantage to France, but for the exertions of a young adventurer whose story we have 
next to trace. 



CHAPTER III. 



THE CANOE. 



ROBERT CAVALIER DE LA SALLE. 

AN ADVENTURER OF METTLE. BIRTH AND EARLY ACHIEVEMENTS. EXPLORES THE MISSISSIPPI 

TO ITS MOUTH. TAKES POSSESSION IN THE NAME OF FRANCE. FIGHTS HIS WAY BACK. 

RETURNS TO FRANCE. SAILS WITH A FLEET TO THE MOUTH OF THE MISSISSIPPI. FAILS TO 

FIND IT. DESERTED BY HIS CAPTAINS. MURDERED IN THE WILDERNESS. 

WHEN Joliet was on his way to Quebec after quitting Marquette, he stopped at 
Fort Frontenac, on Lake Ontario, where the town of Kingston now stands. 
The commandant of this post drank in with greedy ears the trader's recital of his voy- 
age. He was one of the few that ever saw the journal and map of Joliet. The trader 
went his way, and the young soldier of fortune remained to dream in the wilderness 
and work his way to renown. 

Robert Cavalier deLa Salle was born of an ancient and honorable family in Rouen. 
Renouncing his patrimony, or in some way deprived of it by unjust laws, he became 
a Jesuit, and received in a college of that order a thorough education. But finding 
the life of a priest incompatible with his tastes, he quitted the fraternity, receiving 
high testimonials of capacity and fidelity, and embarked as an adventurer for Canada, 
where he arrived between 1665 and 1670. Here the force of his character soon dis- 
played itself by his successful prosecution of various difficult enterprises. In 1674 
we find him commanding at the fort named in honor of Frontenac, governor of the 
province. The confidence of this functionary he seems to have completely gained. 
The next year he visited France wdth strong recommendations from the governor to 
the ministry. Colbert was then at the head of the cabinet of Louis XIV. This 
great statesman listened attentively to the plans of the young soldier, and induced 
his royal master to grant his request. To La Salle was accordingly given a title of 
nobility, a monopoly in the fur-trade around Lake Ontario, the command and owner- 

84 



LA SALLE AT FORT FRONTENAC. 



85 



ship of Fort Frontenac, and the lands in its neighborhood, on condition of his erect- 
inar a stone fortress, and establishino- a mission — for to overawe and convert the 
Iroquois, was the double object of the establishment. While engaged in this under- 
takino-, he showed himself an able politician bj^ his skillful management of the tribes 




DE LA SALLE. 



around him. On the completion of his task, he found himself ruined. To while 
away the long w^inter evenings in his frontier post, and to banish the demon of anx- 
iety, he betook himself to the study of the Spanish accounts of America and its con- 
quest. His mind now reverted to the narrative of Joliet, little heeded at the time, 



86 LA Salle's ambition. 

and he seems to have been the first to identify the river which De Soto had discov- 
ered, with that explored by Marquette. To the Mississippi and its valley the heart 
of our adventurer now turned in his extremity. There his failure might be retrieved, 
and fortune secured. If he could obtain a monopoly of the fur-trade in that vast re- 
gion, extend a line of posts from Canada to the Gulf, found a colony at the mouth of 
the great river, and ship his peltries thence to France, his fortunes would be re- 
trieved. 

Hastening again to France in 1677, he readily obtained, through the friendship of 
the great Colbert, and of his son, the Duke de Seignelai, Minister of Marine, the 
sanction and authority he needed from the crown. His patent confirmed the previ- 
ous one, empowered him to construct forts wherever necessary in the western part 
of New France, and gave him a monopoly of the fur-trade, including, with some ex- 
ceptions, the whole Mississippi Valley. Eecruiting a company of mechanics and 
mariners, he started a third time for Canada, and September of the next year, 1678, 
found him once more at his seigniory of Fort Frontenac, on Lake Ontario, with sixty 
men, prepared to carry out his great scheme of discovery, trade and settlement. He 
brought with him one Henry de Tonti as his lieutenant. This Tonti, said to have 
been the son of the inventor of those life insurance schemes called tontines, was an 
Italian, who had been highly recommended to La Salle by a great noble of the French 
court; and he thenceforth proved himself an unswerving ally, a faithful and able of- 
ficer, and a trusty friend. He had been a soldier seven years in the French wars, and 
having lost a hand by a grenade in Sicily, had supplied its place by a rude claw of 
iron. 

With his vast plans revolving in his mind, shaping out the conception of that belt 
of forts and missions and settlements twelve hundred miles long, which was at once 
to secure the great continent for the Grand Monarch, to gird in and overawe the 
English and Spanish seaboards, to gather the Indians into the Catholic church, and 
to give himself unbounded riches and a mighty lordship — with all these magnificent 
dreams in his soul. La Salle nevertheless applied himself diligenth^ to the details and 
drudgery of their small mercantile beginnings, sending forward traders to gather 
furs, and organizing matters at and about the fort. 

His design was to build a vessel above Niagara, to sail in it as far on his way as the 
upper lakes would admit, and then to cross by land to the Mississippi and proceed 
down the great river in another vessel. He therefore sent Tonti, in a small craft of 
ten tons, which had been built at Fort Frontenac the year before, with workmen, 



WRECKED ON LAKE ONTARIO. 



87 



tools, materials and provisions, to select a proper spot for building his brigantine, 
and also for erecting a fort. 

Thej arrived at the mouth of the Niagara River in the beginning of January, 
1679, and leaving their vessel and going round the falls, chose their dock-yard; 
but finding the Indians dissatisfied Avith the plan of erecting a fort, they pacified 
them, not without difficulty, and confined them- 
selves to palisading the cabins in which they passed 
the winter. 

La Salle embarked from Fort Frontenac, a short 
time after Tonti's departure, in another small 
vessel, with merchandise, provisions, and rigging 
for the new ship, delaying, as he came, to con- 
ciliate the Senecas. He reached Niagara on the 
20th of January. Already there began to lower 
over him the dark clouds of that long series of 
misfortunes against which he bore up for so many 
years with such heroic but unsuccessful strength 
and resolution. All at once he was assaulted with 
all the evils which afterward pursued him ; timidity 
or dislike, or senseless obstinacy in his men, bitter 
and unscrupulous enmity from the traders with 
whom his monopoly interfered, and rapacious se- 
verity from his creditors. The two pilots of his 
vessel quarreled along the route, and wrecked her on 
the south shore of Lake Ontario. The anchors and 
the rigging were secured with great difficulty ; but 
the goods and provisions were lost. The Indian 
traders, too, with whom his monopoly interfered, 
and those connected with them in business, had be- 
gun to poison the minds of the Indians, by representing that his forts and ships 
were intended not for trade, but to subdue the tribes. 

But La Salle, with the able diplomacy of the French, conciliated the Senecas in 
his one short visit. Deferring his fort at Niagara to please them, and urging on his 
main expedition to the West, he at once chose, from among the sites which had been 
explored for a dock-yard, a spot about six miles above the falls, on the English side, 




SENECA INJJIAN. 



'THE GRIFFIN LAUNCHED. 



at the mouth of a creek, and himself drove the first bolt in the frame of his intended 
vessel, a week after his arrival. Then, leaving Tonti in charge of the ship-building, 
he hastened back again to Fort Frontenac by land, almost three hundred miles 
through snowy forests, with a bag of parched corn to eat, and with two men and a 
boy as guide and baggage-train. His errand was to complete arrangements for rais- 
ing money, and for the management of his property during his absence. For nearly 
six months he was thus industriously at work in preparation, and struggling against 
the busy and unscrupulous intrigues of his enemies. His creditors, too, in Montreal 
and Quebec, frightened at the stories which they heard of his wild schemes and 

monstrous expenses, seized and sold 
at ruinous sacrifice whatever of his 
property they could lay hands on. 

But he could not stop to set these 
things right — that would have been 
precisely what his enemies designed ; 
so, letting his peltries and merchan- 
dise go, and making a farewell grant 
out of his estate at Fort Frontenac 
to the Franciscans, of a hundred 
and eighteen acres of land — he had 
already erected for them dwellings 
and a chapel — he set off again for 
Niagara, hearing that his new ship 
was launched and ready. Coasting 
the southern shore of the lake in a 
canoe, he renewed his friendship with the Indians by the way. He found his ves- 
sel already launched, and towed up the river to within a mile or two of Lake Erie. 
She was named "The Grifiin," was of sixty tons burden, armed with two brass guns 
and three arquebuses, and adorned with a wooden griflln for a figure-head. 

After some delay the expedition of thirty-four souls, including three Franciscan 
missionaries, embarked on the 7th of August, 1679, amid shouts and salvos of artil- 
lery, upon the untried waters of Lake Erie, westward bound. They steered boldly 
into the unknown depths of the lake, confident in their compasses, and in the skill of 
their pilot ; crossed the lake in less than three days ; threaded the shallows of the 
straits of Detroit and St. Clair, and the lake between them, to which they gave its 




SQUAW AND CHILD. 



SAFE ARRIVAL AT MACKINAW. 89 

present name in honor of the day; then entered the broad expanse of Lake Huron. 
In crossing this, they encountered a tempest so terrible that they gave themselves up 
for lost, La Salle himself even crying out that they were undone, and offering fer- 
vent vows to the great St. Anthony of Padua, in case they should escape alive. Only 
the tough old sea-dog of a pilot would neither fear nor pray; but, Hennepin says, 
"did nothing all that while but curse and swear against M. de La Salle, who had 
brought him hither to make him perish in a nasty lake, and lose the glory he had ac- 
quired by his long and happy navigation on the ocean." They escaped, however, 
and arrived safe at Mackinaw. 

Here La Salle found that the influence of his enemies, the traders, had g-one before 
him. They had made the Indians believe that he intended both to restrict to him- 
self all trade in skins, and also to subject them to the crown of France; and they 
received him coldly and suspiciously, though with ceremonious politeness. Thev had 
also tampered with his advance guard, most of whom had been indolent and unfaith- 
ful in their task of gathering furs and provisions. Still, the energetic leader was 
not to be diverted from his purpose. He left his faithful lieutenant, Tonti, to col- 
lect some of the deserters, and himself pushed on again in "The Griflin" for Green 
Ba3^ At the entrance of this arm of Lake Michigan, on a small island occupied by 
Pottawatomie Indians, he found some of his missing fur-traders, with great stores 
of pelfries, the proceeds of their barter with the Indians. 

La Salle here took a sudden and singular resolution, and one not pleasing to his 
men. But he was not wont to ask counsel at their hands, nor indeed at the hands of 
any. Of few words, of reserved, and even harsh manners, he evolved his plans in 
silence, and, alone with his own soul, set himself to accomplish them with a w^ill seem- 
ingly incapable of diversion or discouragement ; but he asked no man's advice, 
"talked things over" with no one; only resolved, and then ordered. Strange char- 
acter for a Frenchman — and not only strange, but unfortunate, at least so far as 
popularity was important to him. For a chief impediment to his plans, and the 
cause of his own untimely end, was the insubordination and enmity of his own men. 
In truth, there seems to have been not one faithful and thoroughgoing helper among 
them all, except Henry de Tonti, the iron-handed Italian, and one poor Indian of 
some distant eastern tribe, called Nika, a hunter of exquisite skill, who followed his 
fortune as closely and steadily as a dog, often the sole support of La Salle himself 
and all his party for days and days together, and finally murdered with his master, 
for his faithfulness to him. 



90 



THE LOSS OF "THE GRIFFIN. 



This strange resolution was to send "The Griffin," hiden with the furs at Green Bay 
and what others could be gathered on the way, back to Niagara, that her cargo might 
pay his debts. All the rest would much prefer the stanch and hitherto fortunate 
brigantine, for the remainder of the perilous navigation through Lake Michigan, to 
the frail, slender canoes, exposed to furious tempests and thievish or hostile savages. 
But none thought best to remonstrate; and with a prosperous westerly wind, "The 




GREEK INDIANS. 



Griffin" set sail on the 18th of July, manned with five men and the swearing, unter- 
rified pilot, firing a farewell gun as she departed. 

She was never heard of more. Somewhere in the depths of the north end of Lake 
Michitran, between Green Bay and Mackinaw, her decayed timbers, and the rusty 
relics of the "two brass guns and three arquebuses," her vaunted armament, yet re- 
pose. All else must long since have disappeared. Father Hennepin, with unclerical. 



FORT MIAMIS BUILT. 91 

careless disregard for the six unfortunate souls, her ship's company, dismisses the 
subject by saying, "This was a great loss for M. de La Salle and other adventurers, 
for that ship with its cargo cost above sixty thousand livres" (twelve thousand 
dollars). 

But La Salle, hopeful and cheery, trusting in speedy freedom from debts behind, 
and speedy glory of great discoveries before, now pushed on southward in four 
canoes, burdened with weighty property, even including a blacksmith's forge, and 
with a party reduced by detachment and desertion to fourteen. After a most toil- 
some and dangerous journey along the western side of the lake, sometimes enter- 
tained generously by friendly Indians, once embroiled with a roving squad of Outa- 
gamies or Foxes on a thieving expedition, on the first of November they safely 
entered the Miami Eiver, now called the St. Joseph's, the appointed rendezvous for 
Tonti and for "The Griffin." 

All that winter was spent in waiting for the expected comers. The men, weary of 
living by the uncertain fruits of the chase, dreading the winter and its famine, 
dreading the dangers of the vast unknown region into which they were to be led, 
murmured and complained, and desired to proceed into the Illinois countrv, where 
there was corn. But La Salle refused, gave them good reasons, and kept them busy 
in building Fort Miamis on a hill at the mouth of the river, while he sounded and 
staked out the channel, and sent two men to Mackinaw to hasten the coming of 
his ship. 

After long delay De Tonti appeared, gladdening the hearts of the party b}^ the 
reinforcement and the two canoe loads of venison he brought, but also bringing to 
his commander the heavy tidings that "The Griffin" had not been heard from. La Salle 
had already become apprehensive respecting her, since nearly twice the time had 
elapsed which should have brought her to the Miamis. And thus disappeared a large 
part of his means, and his hopes of promptly paying his debts. But the strong- 
hearted man wasted no useless grief over misfortunes. The expedition left Fort 
Miamis on the 3d of December, in eight canoes, leaving instructions for the captain 
of "The Griffin," if he should ever arrive, in letters conspicuously fixed on branches of 
trees. Ascending the Miami about seventy miles, they made a portage across to the 
head of the Kankakee, followed that slow and crooked stream through a hundred 
miles of desolate frozen marsh, then emerged into a prairie country, and, after two 
hundred miles more of voyaging, entered the river Illinois. 



92 



SOLEMN ALLIANCE WITH THE ILLINOIS. 



This they navigated southward, descending the two rivers during the whole of 
December, supplying themselves with corn from the caclies of a large Indian town, 
whose inhabitants had departed to the hunt, leaving their cabins empty. Floating 
onward through Lake Peoria they came suddenly, at its southern end, into the midst 
of a great camp of the Illinois tribe, occupying both sides of the river. But, putting 
on a bold face, and forming in order of battle, the brave commander of the little 
band met the Indians as their superior in force, and only held out the calumet of 
peace in answer to their signals ; satisfied them for the abstraction of their supplies 
of corn, explained his designs, and concluded a solemn alliance. 

The same night came an emissary of his 
busy foes, the private traders, a Mascouten 
chief named Monso, and poisoned the minds 
of all the Illinois — a fickle, cowardly, sus- 
picious, thievish and lascivious race — with 
the same old story that his plan was to ex- 
terminate the nation, and that an army of 
the terrible Iroquois would soon be upon 
them. This he industriously told to one 
and another all night long, confirmed the 
tale by valuable presents of knives and 
hatchets and such coveted goods, and fled 
away before morning, that the unsuspecting 
Frenchman might be ruined witout knowing 
whence came the blow. La Salle saw at 
once, when next day he Avent among his 
INDIAN SQUAW. savagc hosts, that their yesterday's jovial 

friendship was quite changed into suspicion and fears. But discovering the trick by 
means of an Illinois chief who had formed a strong liking for him, his frank and 
judicious explanations soon dispersed this threatening cloud, in appearance at least. 
Yet the minds of the Illinois were not entirely at rest, and an eminent chief, one 
Nikanape, took occasion, at a great feast which he gave the French, in a long speech 
filled with flaming descriptions of terrible savages on land, and vast monsters and 
hideous whirlpools in the Great River, to dissuade them from going further. It may 
be supposed that the steadfast leader of the French was not moved by this savage 
rhetoric, whose meaning he saw clearly to be, "We do not want you traveling about 




FORT OF THE BROKEN HEART. 



93 



our country at all; so please go straight back by the way you came." He calmly 
rebuked the oratorical Indian for the veiled unfriendliness of his purpose, and the 
feast proceeded. Yet the infection worked among his men, as usual, and six of 
them, including two sawyers upon whom he depended to build the vessel in which to 
descend the Mississippi, ran away, like faint hearts as they were. It is even said 
that they basely planned a cruel death for their commander, and that he only escaped 
the effect of the poison they gave him by a strong dose of treacle, a sovereign anti- 
dote in that day, and which, as well as orvietan, another ancient antidote, La Salle 
seems always to have had in his medicine chest. 

To prevent the rest from further dwelling upon future dangers, he explained to 
them the peril of leaving him in the winter, promised that those who desired it should 
be permitted and aided to depart in the spring, showed them how unsafe was their 
undefended condition, and proposed 
to build another fort. To this they 
agreed, and he at once laid out the 
ground, and employed part of them 
in erecting a stout stockade, and the 
rest in building the vessel in which he 
proposed to descend the Great River. 
When the fort was completed, and it 
only remained to give it a name. La 
Salle for once took counsel of his sor- 
rows. He remembered the pursuit of 
the revengeful traders; the disappear- 
ance of "The Griffin," with its rich weight of furs and its richer freight of human 
souls ; the wasteful seizure of his goods by the creditors at Montreal and Quebec ; 
the long, weary journeys to and fro across stormy lakes and wintry forests; the 
base desertions, and vile, murderous schemes of coward followers ; and named his 
little stockade Creve-coeur — "Fort of the Broken Heart." 

But this first and last access of discouragement was soon repelled, and the strong 
mind of the great discoverer regained its steady balance. Having completed the bark 
on the stocks so far as was possible without the rigging and other materials in "The 
Griffin," and having given up hopes of seeing her, he recognized the fact that his 
means for proceeding were exhausted, and quickly and quietly prepared for another 
winter's trip to Fort Frontenac, to refit, recruit and return. He sent Father Hen- 




INDIAN WIGWAM. 



94 



THE RETURN TO FORT FRONTENAC. 



nepin, one of his Franciscans, Avith two stout French canoe-men, to explore the 
upper Mississippi during his absence ; took with him three Frenchmen and his faithful 
Indian hunter, and departing, passed over the twelve hundred miles between Fort 
Creve-coeur and Frontenac, taking the route along the south shore of lakes Ontario 
and Erie, either near their coasts or upon the highlands dividing their affluents from 
those of the Ohio, deterred now no more than before by the deep melting snow of 
the forests, or the floods and floating ice of so many rivers. Sending word back to 
Tonti to build another fort on the strong site afterward occupied by the French 
Fort St. Louis, and even now called Rock Fort, on a bluff two hundred feet above 
the Illinois River, he disappeared in the pathless woods ; and neither of his adven- 




BUFFAI.O cow AND CALF, 



tures nor of his solitary thoughts, during the weeks of that long, toilsome way, Have 
we any record. But experienced w^oodcraft, a hardy frame, and a strong will brought 
him safely through. 

Of course, misfortune and his enemies had played into each other's hands and 
against him all the time of his absence. Besides the loss of ' 'The Grifiin," he had been 
heavily swindled by his agents in trade in Ontario ; had lost a whole cargo of mer- 
chandise in the lower St. Lawrence; several valuable canoe-loads in the rapids above 
Montreal; a quantity more by other employe's, who stole them, and ran away to the 
Dutch at "Nouvelle Jorck;" and still another large quantity by forced sales at the 



DISASTERS AND DIFFICULTIES MULTIPLY. 95 

instance of creditors, who had heard (or wished they had) that he and all his party 
were drowned. 

Penniless, deeplj^ in debt, all Canada full of his enemies, all his plans crushed, he 
had still one powerful and trusty friend — Count de Frontenac, the governor; and one 
more, yet more powerful and more trusty — himself. AYith the aid of these two, he 
bestirred himself with such energy and success that he again secured men and means, 
and only varying his scheme by giving up the idea of navigating the Mississippi in a 
large boat or brigantine, and trusting to canoes instead, he departed again July 23d, 
1680. After a long journey, delayed by contrary winds on the lakes, he arrived, by 
way of Fort Miamis, at the chief village of the Illinois. It was burned and empty. 
In surprise he proceeded to the site where he had directed Tonti to build his second 
fort. There was not a vestige left of hunuin labor or human presence. He turned 
about, without going further down the river, and returned to the Miamis, where he 
remained during that winter, occupied in negotiating peace among the Indians. In 
the course of this season he learned, from some wandering Illinois, a sad story of the 
disasters of their nation, but gained no news of Tonti or his men. 

Without them his party was not large enough to proceed down the Great Eiver. 
In the end of May, 1681, therefore, he returned again toward Canada for further re- 
inforcements, and at Mackinaw, to their mutual surprise and joy, found Tonti and 
his men. They exchanged the stories of their separate experience. Tonti related 
how mutiny had obliged him to give up both Fort St. Louis and Fort Creve-coeur, 
and had driven him to take shelter with the Illinois ; how an Iroquois army had in- 
vaded and scattered that tribe, and destroyed the villages ; and that, after long en- 
deavors to avert the destructive purposes of the savage Iroquois, he and his few men 
had been forced to flee for their lives to Green Bay, some scouting Kickapoos mur- 
derino; Father Gabriel de La Eibourde on the road. If he had taken the south road 
at Lake Dauphin, instead of that to the north, Tonti would have met his commander, 
on his last outward expedition, with a well furnished little fleet of canoes. 

Then La Salle, with a steady countenance, as indifferently as if they had been the 
mishaps of another, in turn related a still longer and heavier catalogue of misfortunes 
and disappointments. Father Membre said in admiration, that though any one but 
he would have renounced the enterprise, he was "more resolute than ever to con- 
tinue his work and complete his discovery." 

We must here advert for a moment to the liar Hennepin, who had, during La Salle's 
absence, made an exploring voyage on the upper Mississippi, and endured a short 



96 THE SUCCESSFUL VOYAGE BEGUN. 

captivity among the Indians. From this he had escaped, and a few weeks after La 
Salle's meeting with Tonti at Mackinaw, he passed that post, made the best of his 
way to Canada, and thence to Europe, where he afterwards published an account of 
a pretended voyage down the Great River, in which he endeavored to rob La Salle of 
the glory of discovering its outlet. 

Nothing could be done at Mackinaw for the great object of the persevering La 
Salle, so he and his party soon returned to Fort Frontenac. Here he re-arranged his 
finances, selected a strong body of Frenchmen and of New England Indians — Abenakis 
or Mohegans — with these returned to Niagara, and in August, 1681, embarked thence 
once more for the mysterious mouth of the "Hidden River," as the Spaniards named 
it; at last, after undaunted and indescribable exertions, this third time destined to 
succeed. 

With fifty -four souls in all, including ten Indian women to cook, and three chil- 
dren, the expedition passed from the Miamis to the Chicago River, up this on the 
ice to the portage, down the Illinois to Lake Peoria, and thence by water, the river 
being open toward the Mississippi. They swept past the Fort of the Broken Heart, 
barely tarrying to look in upon the garrison re-established there, and pressing for- 
ward with happier auguries, glided down a deserted river — the Indians being at their 
distant winter hunting-grounds — and on the 6th of February, 1682, floated upon the 
long-desired stream, which La Salle now named the Colbert, after his stanch pa- 
tron, the great French statesman. 

They swept downward, with various adventure; fishing or hunting; holding peace- 
ful intercourse with many a savage tribe; erecting a splendid cross bearing the 
, arms of France, near the mouth of the Arkansas River, in token of the proprietor- 
ship of the French king, and amid the ignorant rejoicing of the savages, who took 
the ceremony to be a show for their amusement, instead of a formal theft of their 
land, and who after the departure of the French carefully enclosed with palisades 
the ornamented cross. 

Onward still, past the sun-worshipping Tensas, whose ceremonies, large canoes, 
and profound reverence for their chiefs, seemed to indicate that they were of kin to 
the brave and interesting tribe of the Natchez. Onward still, past the Natchez 
themselves; past the Koroas and the Quinipissas, and sundry other tribes; past a 
village just plundered, and tenanted b}^ the corpses of the slain; and then, all at 
once, the vast stream divided before them into three mighty channels. The brave 
commander's heart beat high, for he must be near the southern sea; and sending 
detachments down the eastern and middle channels, under Tonti and Dautray, he 



THE GOAL REACHED AT LAST. 97 

himself pursued the western, the largest. The muddy waves of the broad flood were 
gradually found to become brackish, and then quite salt; and soon the measureless 




LA SALLE DISPLAYS THE ARMS OF FRANCE. 



expanse of the Gulf of Mexico opened before them. The mouth of the Great River, 
the Hidden River, was found. 



98 "VIVE LE ROI." 

Of the emotions of the stern and lofty-minded La Salle, as he thus floated out 
toward the goal of his vast and long-pursued enterprise, no record exists. Whatever 
they were, his high and resolved features gave small trace of them ; and speedily 
returning to the prosaic duties of the discoverer, he spent one day in exploring and 
sounding the river's mouths and the neighboring shores, and another in finding a spot 
dry and firm enough, amidst those dreary expanses of flat alluvium overgrown with 
rank sedge and weeds, to afford a site for a memorial column and its attendant cross, 
tokens of the empire of Christ and of the great French king. "Henceforth," said 
La Salle, "my God and my king are supreme forever over the innumerable souls 
and the immeasurable lands of this great continent." 

Having selected a suitable place, on the 9th of April, 1682, La Salle drew up his 
whole party under arms; they sang the Te Deum, t\\e Exaudiat, and the Domine 
salvum fac liegem, thanking God, imploring his continued help for themselves, and 
then loj^ally asking it for their king, b}" the three sonorous old Latin chants. They 
fired a formal salute of musketry, and shouted Vive le Roi. Then the column was 
erected, and with a long enumeration of nations, and rivers, and lands, he formally 
proclaimed that all the lands and waters of Louisiana, "along the River Colbert, or 
Mississippi, and rivers which discharge themselves therein, from its source beyond 
the country of the Kious or Nadouession, and this with their consent and the con- 
sent of the Montantees, Illinois, Mesigameas, Natchez, and Koroas, as far as its 
mouth at the sea," are henceforth part of the realms of the king of France. And 
he demanded of Jacques de La Metairie, the notary, his oflicial certificate of the 
transaction. The scribe drew up the instrument, and it was signed by the notary 
himself, and by La Salle, Father Zenobias Membre, the missionary, Henry de Tonti, 
and the other Frenchmen of the party, and delivered to the commander. 

Then they erected a cross, and buried at the foot of the tree to which it was 
attached a leaden plate, with an inscription commemorating their discovery and their 
claim ; chanted more Latin hymns, shouted again Vive le Roi, and thus the Missis- 
sippi Valley was made French for almost a century — until the peace of 1763. 

But they were hard pressed for food ; and barely delaying to finish the ceremony, 
must push rapidly up the river. This they did, and after a combat Avith the 
Quinipissas, the first into which La Salle had ever been driven with Indians, so wise 
and skillful had been all his actions toward them, and after some suffering from 
hunger the party proceeded safeh' on its return. At Fort Prudhomme, however, 
the intrepid chief was stricken down by a wastinof fever. He sent his faithful 



LA SALLE GOES TO FRANCE FOR AID. 99 

lieutenant, Tonti, with an account of his voyage and discovery, to Count de Fron- 
tenac, with orders to return at once; and himself remained forty days on his sick- 
bed, under the care of the good priest. Father Zenobius Membre, and was even then 
so worn down by ilhiess that it was ahiiost the end of September before he reached 
his establishment at the Miamis. 

La Salle now purposed to return down the Mississippi during the next spring, and 
to establish a strong colony near its mouth. He sent Father Zenobius to France 
with a full account of his doings hitherto ; but for nearly a year he was occupied — 
probably, for he has left no record of his deeds — in trading, traveling, and keeping 
up his influence and connections with the Indians, the plan of the colony being post- 
poned or modified by circumstances, or, more probably, by his own thoughts. 

During the long months of that sojourn in the wilderness, the scheme of his 
Mississippi colony had grown and expanded within his mind. Twice had he proved 
his influence upon the rich and magnificent government of Louis the Fourteenth. 
Why should he not a third time look to a mighty empire for the assistance he needed, 
rather than to his small individual resources ; and cross the ocean with a strong com- 
pany in great ships, instead of boating obscurely down the vast wilderness in frail 
canoes ? 

He resolved to try; and leaving the Chevalier de Tonti, his financial agent and 
lieutenant, in command, he departed down the St. Lawrence, took ship at Quebec, 
and landed at Rochelle, December 13th, 1683. 

As usual, he found that his enemies had been active, and that fortune had aided 
them. His munificent patron, Colbert, was dead. De la Barre, now governor of 
Canada, had written to the home government that La Salle stirred up Indian wars ; 
that all his tales of discoveries were lies; that he had acted the part of a petty tyrant 
among those far-oif wildernesses, with a small band of vagabond followers, stealing 
and fio-litiuij. But it was not such an attack as this which could obstruct La Salle. 
Aided by his friends, Father Zenobius Membre, and Count Frontenac, now returned 
to France; by the inherited prepossession of Colbert's son, the Duke de Seignelai, 
now high in office, and by his own inexhaustible energy and strange power over the 
court, he went straight on with his plans. The absurd slanders of the spiteful De la 
Barre died in silence; and the authority and means now confided to him were far 
greater than before. 

The king gave him a free gift of a ship of six guns, and the use of three more, a 
thii-ty-six-gun frigate, a transport of three hundred tons, and a ketch ; and furnished 



100 SAILS WITH A FLEET FOR THE MISSISSIPPI. 

supplies, sea and land forces and colonists; in short, the whole personal and material 
constituents of a colony. Not only had La Salle the supreme command of this great 
expedition, but territorial jurisdiction over all the great valley whither he was bound, 
and over all colonies established therein. 

The reputation of the enterprise and its leader drew to him a number of volun- 
teers, all respectable, and including several families, a brother of La Salle's, who 
was a priest, two of his nephews, and another relative also a priest. 

Even at this very moment, when the steady energies and wise perseverance of this 
man seemed at last to have brought him to a point promising the full reward of so 
many years of labor and incessant wanderings — even now opened the longest and 
saddest of all the sad chapters of his fateful life. On the very point of embarking, 
the careful chief, who had been forced to enlist his soldiers, mechanics, and laborers 
by means of others, found that these faithless hirelings had raked together the very 
scum of the seaports; giving him for soldiers, beggars, vagabonds, and cripples so 
deformed that they could not handle a musket; for skilled artisans, men perfectly 
ignorant of their pretended trades. In urgent haste he partly remedied the evil, but, 
as usual, must let much of it pass; trusting, not without reason, to the calm and 
ready strength which had made head against so many troubles before. But another 
evil he could not remedy. The generous king had appointed to the naval command 
a Norman, M. de Beaujeu ; and it would be ungracious, and was now too late, to en- 
deavor to displace him ; a little-minded, obstinate, quarrelsome, pompous man, ridicu- 
lously vain of his rank of captain, snappish and irritable, of all men on earth the 
very one to be vexed at the silent, self-reliant, haughty reserve of La Salle. Even 
before sailing, this unhappy captain wrote peevish and dissatisfied letters to the ma- 
rine department. How fatally and bitterly the fool vented his spite afterward, will 
quickly appear. 

Let us hasten; the narrative is painful; who would protract the sorrowful story? 
They had to return one hundred and fifty miles to replace a broken bow-sprit ; then 
sailing again, La Salle, with wise and cautious speed, refused to stop uselessly at 
Madeira, and the wretched Norman, Beaujeu, and all the lazy ships' companies, mur- 
mured and were enraged. Then he positively forbade the sailors to subject his fol- 
lowers to the brutal abuses usual at crossing the tropic line, and they grumbled and 
complained still more. As the fleet approached St. Domingo, a storm scattered it. 
Eagerly seizing the opportunity of making trouble, the mean Beaujeu, instead 
of entering Port St. Paix, the rendezvous agreed upon — and where were the royal 



THE PILOT S FATAL ERBOR. 101 

officers whom La Salle was to meet, and who were ordered to aid and promote his de- 
signs — passed round the island and landed at Petit Goave, far to the southwest. And 
now, also, the inscrutable purposes of God added to fierce tempests and perverse 
malcontents aboard, two other enemies. The Spaniards, at war with France, sur- 
prised and seized his ketch — the St. Francis, with thirty tons of merchandise and 
military stores — a grievous loss, which would not have happened had Beaujeu put in 
at Port St. Paix, as he should have done. But La Salle calndy added the item 
to that long list of shipwrecks in Canada, and dismissed it from his mind. A wast- 
ing disease, however, was the second and worst of these added foes; and under the 
furious assault of a tropical fever, his life was despaired of. But he was not j-et to 
die ; we may even suppose that his powerful will urged him through this peril of 
disease; that he will not die — unless God so decrees. In three weeks, thouo-h 
yet feeble, he consulted with the governor and intendant, who came to Petit Goave 
to meet him ; took on board provisions and domestic animals ; obtained sailing di- 
rections, and hastened away; for his miserable band of vagabond soldiers, living in 
licentious disorder, were diseased and dying, or deserted the jangling and ill-omened 
fleet for the luxurious ease of St. Dominjjo. 

Embarking in the slowest sailer, and taking the lead in her, he set sail again ; 
coasted the southern shore of Cuba; stopped three days at the Isle of Pines; weath- 
ered Cape Corientes and Cape San Antonio, and after being once driven back, 
steered northward into the great Gulf of Mexico, straight for the mouth of the Mis- 
sissippi. They sailed eight days, and then the sounding-bell told of land not far off. 
In two days more they discerned it. Where were thej^? Consulting and hesitating, 
the}^ concluded that they were in the great Bay of Appalachee; for the pilots at St. 
Domingo told them of strong currents, which the}' accordingly believed had carried 
them eastward. Fatal error. They were, doubtless, already far west of that 
strangely hidden river, in one of the bays of the coast of Texas. 

But thus they judged, and coasting further west to find the Mississippi, they left 
it yet further behind them. Sailing a whole week, they still imagined themselves in 
the Bay of Appalachee. Sailing tAvo weeks more, they became convinced of their 
error ; the coast trended southward ; they were approaching Mexico. They turned 
about, and it was proposed to find the Mississippi by coasting eastward again, but 
Beaujeu flatly refused, without a supply of provisions, which La Salle would not 
give, lest the wicked captain should sail away to France. 



102 



THE LANDING AT BAY ST. LOUIS. 



Returning a little way up the coast, they entered Matagorda Bay, which La Salle 
named the Bay of St. Louis, and which he vainly hoped was one of the mouths of 
the Mississippi. He decided to disembark, and all the emigrants went ashore, leav- 
ing the crews only on board the ships. The neighborhood was explored, the harbor 
sounded, and the Amiable, the transport, ordered in. Her captain, a brute or a vil- 




LA SALLE'S LANDING IN TEXAS. 
[Reduced Fac-Simile from Hennepin.] 



lain, or more probably both, refused a pilot, and running his vessel ashore, she 
bilged ; some one took pains to destroy her boat ; and the greater part of her cargo — 
the very sustenance of the colony — was lost. The Indians took some goods which 
floated ashore ; and a party of Frenchmen sent to reclaim them, seizing some canoes 



THE LANDING AT BAY ST. LOUIS. 103 

and skins in reprisal, the enraged savages made a night attack upon them, killed two 
and wounded two more. 

The demoniac cunning and ferocity of the red men thus co-operated with these de- 
vouring shipwrecks. And the colonists already began to lament, to murmur, and to 
talk of returning to France. But their leader, though cruelly grieved, was not dis- 
couraged nor moved ; his fearless resolution was a tower of strength to all the band, 
and the enterprise proceeded. 

Beaujeu departed, still angry and venomous, carrying away all the cannon balls 
for the eight great guns of the colony, because, forsooth, he would have to move 
part of his cargo to get at them ; leaving on that wild and distant shore about two 
hundred souls, the small vessel. La Belle, and that portion of provisions and goods 
saved from the Spaniards and the sea. 

This was the middle of March, 1685. The commander ordered a temporary fort 
to be constructed, and then explored the coast. Finding a pleasant site some dis- 
tance west, he moved his colony thither, and in the course of July they were all 
there, their only misfortunes by the way, one death from the bite of a rattlesnake, 
and a conspiracy among the soldiers to murder their officers and run away, this last 
detected in time to crush it. On this new site was erected, with terrific labor, even 
fatal to some of the colonists, dwellings and a fort, named Fort St. Louis; and La 
Salle, having thus provided for the security of his colony, prepared to make a journey 
by land for the hidden, fateful river. In October, having been delayed by his 
brother's sickness, he set out, the Belle accompanying him part of the way by sea. 
On the first night six men, detached to take soundings, keeping careless watch, were 
murdered by the savages. The commander marched on eastward, discovered the 
Colorado, examined the eastern part of the Matagorda Bay, and returned, after an 
absence of more than four months, with but eight of the twenty men who set out 
with him. Six were dead; one, a quarrelsome, vindictive villain named Duhaut, de- 
serted, and had returned alone some time before; and the others were searching for 
the Belle, of which no news had been received. They came in next day ; nothing 
could be seen of her ; she was, doubtless, lost, and with her disappeared their last 
means of communicating with civilized men, unless by journeys scarcely less than 
sure to be fatal. 

But such communication must be had. The necessity of it being recognized, the 
commander quietly and quickly prepared for it, as coolly as if he were only intending 
to step across the fort; gathering resolution — if, indeed, that indomitable w^ill ever 



104 UNSUCCESSFUL INLAND EXPEDITIONS. 

looked for encouragement at all — from the evident alternative of swift destruction. 
His journe}^ would be to the Illinois, where, in his strong hill-fort, the valiant and 
faithful Tonti was sure to be at his post, awaiting orders as directed. Once in 
Illinois, he could obtain assistance, and send or go to Quebec or France. Taking 
twenty men again, he set out by land, at the end of April, 1686, leaving M. Joutel, 
as before, in command of the fort. 

He returned in August, having traveled far up into the interior, and there been 
delayed for two months or more by a violent fever. Their ammunition becoming 
exhausted during this time, and being entirely dependent on hunting for provisions, 
they had no alternative but to turn back. Of this second company of twenty, but 
eight returned; four had deserted to the Indians, one was lost, one devoured by an 
alligator, and the rest, unable to endure the fatigue of the journey, had set out to 
return, and were never heard of. 

These failures cast a deep gloom over the little company in the fort, now reduced 
by death and desertion from about two hundred to forty ; but, says Joutel in his 
journal, "The even temper of our chief made all men easy, and he found, by his great 
vivacity of spirit, expedients which revived the lowest ebb of hope." He had given 
up the Belle for lost, and, therefore, rejoiced exceedingly to find that his kinsman, 
M. Chefdeville, and some others of her crew, had escaped, and had saved his own 
clothes and part of his papers, although the little vessel herself, as he had concluded, 
had perished. 

La Salle at once set about building a store-house, to keep his men employed; and 
still retaining his intention of proceeding to the Illinois, they talked daily about the 
journey. Taken ill, however, his stout-hearted lieutenant, Joutel, offered to go 
instead, if he might take fifteen men and the faithful Indian hunter, who had 
followed his chief to France and back to Mexico. But the commander recovered his 
health, and again — as he would have done a hundredth time, had he failed ninety-nine — 
made his arrangements and set out, taking with him a third twenty men, and leaving 
thirteen men and seven women in the fort, with a considerable stock of provisions 
and arms. 

Thus, on the 12th of Januarj^, 1687, departed Robert de La Salle, for the third 
time, from his little colony, as resolute and cool as ever ; but the parting was saddened 
as if by presentiment of evil. "We took our leaves," says the veteran man of war, 
Joutel, "with so much tenderness and sorrow, as if we had all presaged that we 
should never see each other more." 



UNSUCCESSFUL INLAND EXPEDITIONS. 



105 



And now tlie long, brave struggle with fate and with enemies drew to its melan- 
choly close. The little party, with their five horse-loads of provisions, disappeared 
from the eyes of the Sieur Barbier, left commander in the scanty colony in the fort ; 
and plunging into the woods, marched northeastward across the pleasant prairies 
and throuirh the open woods of Texas. They forded rivers and passed through 




GULF °5 MEXICO. 

La Salle's Map ofTexas. 



168 4 -'685 



swamps, often easing their progress by following buffalo paths; negotiated, as they 
went, with the Indians, always friendly, but always on their guard; and Nika, the 
hunter, ever purveyed for them abundance of game. 

On the 15th of March, La Salle sent Duhaut, the mutinous wi-etch before men- 
tioned, Hiens, a German buccaneer; Lietot, the surgeon; Nika, the Indian, and his 



106 PLOTTING AGAINST LA SALLE. 

own footman, Saget, to bring in some provisions which he had concealed a few miles 
away, on his last journey. These they found spoiled by wet, and, as they returned, 
Nika killed tw^o buffaloes, and they sent the footman on to advise their commander 
to have the meat dried, and send horses for it. He did so, sending his nephew, 
Moranget, a violent and reckless young man, with several more of the party. 

Moranget came and found that Duhaut and the rest were smoking the buffalo 
meat, and that, by the common right of hunters, they had laid by some marrow bones 
and choice bits for themselves. In a sudden burst of unreasonable and inexplicable 
passion, he reproved and threatened them, and seized not only the smoked meat, but 
all the tid-bits which they had saved according to custom. This last offense filled the 
cup of their anger, even to overflowing ; for these three, the surgeon Lietot, Hiens and 
Duhaut, fancied they had — and most probably had — other causes of complaint against 
the unhappy 3'oung man. With black looks, their hearts boiling with hot wrath, 
but still withheld for the moment by lack of concert from wreaking the revenge for 
wdiich they all thirsted, they silently drew off, and consulted apart upon the mat- 
ter. Seared and hardened by crime, the inhuman wretches easily agreed upon their 
measures. They would murder Moranget in his sleep, and so square their account 
with him. But one of them suggested that the Indian and the footman were faith- 
ful — they would avenge the deed, or inform upon them. The ansAver was easy — 
they, too, would be asleep ; they would have only to kill them too. Accordingly, 
taking into their plot Teissier and Larcheveque, two more of the party, they waited, 
reveling in the satisfaction of anticipated revenge, until their unsuspecting victims 
had eaten and were peacefully asleep, dreaming, doubtless, of distant homes and lov- 
ing hearts in sunny France. Lietot, the surgeon, took an axe and struck Moranget 
many blows on the head ; then, leaving him, dispatched the Indian and the footman, who 
never stirred. But .such was the vitality of the young officer, that, though mangled 
and speechless, he sat up, alive, a horrible spectacle of misery. The murderers 
obliged his fellow, De Marie, though not a conspirator, to put him out of his pain. 

Crimes are seldom single. It needed not long reflection to show them that they 
must do yet another murder, or suffer for those already done. They must kill La 
Salle also. And they could the more readily do this because they had some harsh- 
ness of his to punish. They w^ould at once have set out to attack him, had not the 
river between them risen too high. But he came to them, as if impelled by fate. 
Uneasy at the delay of his nephew, and as if under some presage of misfortune, or 
consciousness of fault in his own or his nephew's conduct, he asked his men if Lie- 
tot, Hiens, and Duhaut had not expressed some discontent. No one seemed to know 



LA SALLE ASSASSINATED. 107 

of it, and, his apprehension increasing, he set out on the third day to find his nephew. 
Approaching the tragic scene, he saw some eagles, and thinking carrion near, he 
fired a shot as a signal to his friends, in case they had killed game and were within 
hearing. Silent in death, they were beyond all human summons. The doomed 
commander's signal served only to insure and hasten his own fate. The conspira- 
tors heard it; Duhaut and Larcheveque crossed the river; Duhaut hid in the reeds, 
and Larcheveque showed himself at a little distance. La Salle called out to him, 
asking after Moranget. The man answered vaguely, rudely, and omitting the usual 
gesture of respect, that he was along the river. The punctilious and severe chief 
advanced, as if to reprove or chastise the impertinent manner of his follower; Duhaut 
took fatal aim from his lair and fired. His ball passed through the head of La 
Salle, and he fell without speaking a word. 

Father Anastasius Douay, who was with his leader, prepared to share bis fate, but 
on their telling him that he was safe, endeavored to do the last priestly oflSces for 
him, but the dying man could only feebly press the hand of the good father, in token 
that he understood him, and his spirit quickly passed. The death shot brought up 
the other conspirators ; and they stripped and insulted, the poor corpse. The sur- 
geon, Lietot, laughed and mocked at it, and, in the excess of his brutal glee, cried 
out over and over again, "There thou liest, grand bashaw — there thou liest." And 
they threw the naked body aside among the bushes, a prey to wild beasts; though 
they did not prevent the sorrowing priest from burying it afterward, and erecting a 
rude cross over it. 

Thus died Robert Cavalier de La Salle, at a time when fairer prospect than ever 
of permanent success was opening before him. His faithful follower, Joutel, who 
was one of the party, but not present at his death, thus delivered his funeral oration, 
with terse military frankness, mingled of praise and blame: "His constancy and 
courage, and his extraordinary knowledge in arts and sciences, which rendered him 
fit for anything, together with an indefatigable body, which made him surmount all 
difficulties, would have procured a glorius issue to his undertaking, had not all those 
excellent qualities been counterbalanced by too haughty a behavior, which sometimes 
made him insupportable, and by a severity toward those under his command, which 
at last drew on him implacable hatred and was the occasion of his death." 

Few words may close this sad story. A swift retribution overtook Lietot and Du- 
haut, who were a little after slain in a quarrel by Hiens, who remained among the 
Indians. Six of the party, all the conspirators having left them, reached, in July, a 
post established by Tonti at the mouth of the Arkansas, and proceeding onward 



108 ESTIMATE OF LA SALLE's CHARACTER. 

reached Fort St. Louis, thence went to Quebec, and thence to France; hiding with 
difficulty and equivocation, their heavy burden of sad news, until they first revealed 
it to the French king. 

La Salle's little colony vanished. The Lidians assaulted and took it, slaying all 
but four youths and a young girl, who were afterward rescued by a Spanish force 
from Mexico, sent to observe the French establishment. 

Tonti had descended the Mississippi while La Salle was in Texas, but not finding 
him, left a letter for him with the Indians, who delivered it safe to Iberville, four- 
teen years after, when he entered the river. Then returning, he resumed the duties 
of his lieutenancy in Illinois; and spent the remainder of his life, as far as is known, 
in military services in various parts of North America, a stout and faithful soldier 
to the last. 

Not one written word from La Salle's pen has reached us. His papers perished in 
the lonely fort on Matagorda Bay. Nor have we even reports of his statements as 
to his views or motives; for it was not his custom to speak of what he intended, but 
only to order what he desired ; and thus it happens that our estimate of him must be 
based upon our scanty information of his actual achievements, preserved either by 
ill-informed or unappreciative friends, or unscrupulous and cunning enemies. 

We need not elaborate a description of his character ; our story has sufficiently ex- 
hibited it. The lessons of his life are easily read. It is true that that haughty si- 
lence, that harsh peremptory manner, were faults ; but how manifold the excuses — 
how terribly complete the expiation. Tenderly we would touch upon those errors, 
and would rather enlarge upon the unspotted honor, the far-seeing plans, the wise 
practical sense, the tact and skill in governing and negotiating and organizing, the 
stainless, impregnable courage; and, above all, that calm, colossal power of will 
which impelled him so resistlessly through and over the opposition of so many foes, 
so many misfortunes, with an inscrutable, gigantic momentum, like that by which 
the vast ice-bergs of the Arctic ride crashing through the thick fields of iron-bound 
ice, with a force beyond human comprehension, but calmly and steadily, as if float- 
ing in a summer sea. No grander model of superiority to the vicissitudes of human 
life is to be found in history. 

Farewell, strong and brave man. From thee may we well learn a lesson of cour- 
age, of perseverance, of patient endurance and undying hope; and if the perplexing 
question should arise within us, hoAV can it be just that such heroic struggles should 
at last so utterly fail — why could not this noble life at last be crowned with peace 
and honor and happiness? — let Faith answer, from behind the mysterious veil of 
death, "Ye shall know all when ye come hither." 



CHAPTER IV. 



AN IDYL OF THE WILDERNESS. 



THE FRENCH AT KASKASKIA. A WESTERN ARCADIA. MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE VIL- 
LAGERS. SIMPLE FAITH. NEITHER LAWYERS NOR COURTS. A PATERNAL GOVERNMENT. 

"WHERE IGNORANCE IS BLISS." BEAN BALLS. KINGS AND QUEENS OF A NIGHT. 

SPANIARDS MARCH AGAINST THEM. A SECOND ARMADA DEFEAT. KASKASKIA FORTIFIED. 

DESCRIPTION OF FORT CHARTRES. 

NOT many years after the death of La Salle, the zeal of a good priest, Father 
Gravier, moved him to found a mission among the Kaskaskia Indians, whose 
wigwams stood on the bank of the Great River, near the mouth of the Okau or Kas- 
kaskia. He was soon joined by Father Pinet and other priests, and their labors 
among the red men were fruitful of good results. Ere long, the good Fathers had 
other recruits for their missions than the children of the soil, men of their own faith 
and tongue. 

Enticed by the stories that reached them, under the inclement sky and the strict 
feudal system of Lower Canada, of the land of the Illini, the mildness of its climate, 
the richness of its soil, the fruitfulness of its pastures and its groves, one straggler 
after another descended from those rigorous regions, navigating the vast circuit of 
the great lakes, and passing by Lake Michigan, across the portage from the Miamis 
to the Kankakee, or from the Chicago to the Illinois, and erected a humble home 
within that great expanse of low-lying, fertile soil now called the American Bottom. 
This region, beginning on the eastern bank of the Mississippi River, nearly opposite 
to where its mild and placid stream is joined by the turbid waters of the Missouri, 
extending from this point sixty miles southward, and in width from the river's bank 
to the bluff beyond, from five to eight miles, formed a tract of such fertility as is 
scarcely elsewhere to be found on earth. Here, surrounded by the exuberant pro- 
ducts of nature, the French raised their half -wigwams, half-cabins, by driving corner 
posts into the ground, and then transverse laths — for they scarce deserved the name 
of beams — from one to another of these posts ; plastering over these with the hand, a 

109 



110 A WESTERN ARCADIA. 

coating of "cat-and-clay," as the American settlers called it; soft clay worked up 
with prairie grass and Spanish moss. With this stucco upon the outside and the 
inside of the latticed walls, and neatly whitewashed; with roofs thatched with long 
grass carefully woven and matted together and lasting, it is said, longer than shingles; 
with spacious piazzas all around the house; there presently arose picturesque villages, 
bordering a single street so narrow that the settler might sit smoking his pipe 
beneath the shade of his piazza, and talk to his neighbor across the street in his 
ordinary tone of voice. 

But let us orderly describe this simple and happy community in its prime — about 
the 3^ear 1750 — its laws, religion, social organization, manners, occupations, charac- 
ters. For the whole texture and character — the gross and the detail — are so diametri- 
cally opposed to the ideas and conceptions of the descendants of English settlers, 
that the amplest delineation would fail to communicate a full comprehension of them. 

The laws of the French settlements in Illinois were based upon the same great 
Koman code which underlies the jurisprudence of all the south of Europe. But 
some considerations, either of expediency or liberality, caused the substitution of 
allodial titles to land for the feudal tenures of Canada; that is, the settlers were per- 
mitted to own land very much as a New England farmer owns it, instead of being 
obliged to hold it at the pleasure of the feudal lord, in whom was vested the real 
ownership. Thus the villagers of Kaskaskia, and the other neighboring settlements 
of our "terrestrial paradise," as La Salle aptly termed these regions, possessed, at 
the time to which we refer, each his parcel of land, granted by government to all 
the village in common ; one great tract for tillage, and one for pasture, separated by 
a fence, and stretching back from the river bank to the limestone bluff. In this each 
family had a portion set apart for itself, and sacred from all intrusion. The village 
authorities, the senate of the settlement, enacted regulations requiring every family 
to begin planting, cultivating and harvesting on certain fixed days. The consent of 
this same body, as representing the whole settlement, was required for the admission 
of any new settler to a share in the common field. 

Of statute and common law, courts and attorneys, fees and pleadings, these fortu- 
nate people knew nothing. Quarrels among them were as rare as in an affectionate 
family. No courts of law were established there until after the country passed into 
the possession of the British ; and after they were established, no actions were 
brought before them until after the Anglo-Americans possessed the land. The sour, 
pugnacious litigations, as well as that much vaunted but very doubtful institution. 



MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE VILLAGERS. 



Ill 



the trial by jury, of the English, were an evil and a remedy equally foreign and 
terrible to the kindly disposition of the French. If any differences arose which the 
parties could not settle, they were referred to the arbitration of the priest, or, in the 
last resort, to that of the commandant of Fort Chartres, a might}^ potentate, rulino-, 
in name at least, territories vaster than most kingdoms, representing all the power 
and wisdom of the French king, and looked up to by the simple settlers as the per- 
fection of all human strength and judgment. 




NIGHT ENCAMPMENT 



The religion of this far-off prairie settlement was Catholic. A reverend Jesuit 
father, head of the college established in Kaskaskia, and superior of all the missions 
in the valley ; and the curate of the village, who received a small salary from the 
government, eked out by marriage and burial fees, and the gifts of his parishioners, 
were the highest ecclesiastical dignitaries in Illinois. Pomp and pride they had 
none; devoted, poor and humble, it was the purity and goodness of their lives which 



112 



"WHERE IC4NORANCE IS BLISS. 



gave them their powerful influence among their little flocks. The peojole were 
sincerely religious after their kind ; and with the characteristic laxity of practice so 
abhorred by the stricter followers of Calvin, after the services of the Sabbath were 
over, they devoted to quiet amusements and pleasures the remainder of the holy 
day. 

They were ignorant of letters, and happy in their ignorance. The Jesuits estab- 
lished a few little schools, where were taught the elements of reading and writing; 
and this was learning enough for the Frenchman of Illinois. The great world and its 



«^t.^^ ^ ^^''-i^ ^^i^i-^^^i ^,2.'' 









CITr OF ST. LOUIS, AS LAID OUT BY COL. AUGUSTE CHOUTEAU, AT THE FOUNDING 

OP THE CITY IN 1764. 



weighty affairs troubled him not. He supposed that the Pope managed all spiritual 
concerns, and Louis of France all temporal concerns. With their wisdom and power 
at the helm, represented by those two reverend and awful dignitaries, the curate and 
Tnonsieur le commandant, he, the French settler in Illinois, was certain that all would 
go well; he let the world wag on, and made himself happy with the trivial enjoyments 
brought by each peaceful day. He could read enough, and write enough, to draw, 
understand, and sign the simple instruments, which were all he needed, and to spell 
out the stories of the saints, or a tale of the crusaders ; and more he needed not. 



FIRST COMMERCE OX THE MISSISSIPPI. 113 

Each family held from one to three acres of land in the central part of the villa^re. 
This was the property of the first settler of the name. Here the patriarch built his 
lowly cabin ; and, as son or daughter married, another mud-walled and grass-roofed 
cabin arose near his own, and within the same enclosure. With each new marriao-e 
appeared a new home. These peaceful, easy lives, the pure, sweet air, the healthful 
out-door manners, and plain, nutritious forest food, prolonged life to a remarkable 
degree; and thus around the house of the patriarch there gathered a dozen or a 
score — nay, forty or fifty dwellings of children and grandchildren and great-grand- 
children, even to the fourth and fifth generations. 

These communities were chiefly agricultural. Each family carefully tilled its sep- 
arate allowance of the common field, and that wealth}^ soil repaid their neat, thou"-h 
homely industry, with plenteous and more than sufficient crops. Six hundred barrels 
of flour were shipped to New Orleans from Wabash county alone in 1746, besides 
hides, furs, tallow, wax and honey. 

But the first settlers had been the daring coiireurs de hois, the runners of the woods, 
who had found their wild pleasures and their perilous profits in vanquishing the 
hardships and dangers of the pathless forest, the roaring rapid, the toilsome por- 
tage; in the skillful but laborious occupation of the hunt; and in trading with the 
fickle, treacherous and savage Indians of those remote regions, from the Abenakis of 
New England and the Outaouacs, or Ottawas, of the St. Lawrence and Lake Huron, 
to the distant Sioux, or, as they were then termed, Nadouessions. And, however 
quietly and easily the sons and grandsons of these roving men lived in the shaded 
cabin, or the narrow, sunny street of Kaskaskia, or among the luxuriant fields Avith- 
out; however gaily their hours might pass amid the light labors of the day and the 
jovial dances of the evening, there was scarce a young man in whom the wild long- 
ing for the forest and rivers did not, at some time, wake up. Then, in his frail 
canoe, he passed far up into the region of lakes at the head of the Mississippi, or the 
rugged, desolate plains upon the upper waters of the Missouri; traversing the dis- 
tant Sioux country, or even the rugged ranges of the Rocky Mountains, hunting 
and trading. He returned with a canoe-load of furs; floated afar oif down to that 
great capital. New Orleans, or round by the bayous and creeks of the coast, to the 
distant city of Mobile ; exchanged his wild commodities for whatever civilized mer- 
chandise seemed good to him, and returned up the rapid river to his quiet prairie 
home, perhaps to refit and depart upon another expedition to the Indian country; 
perhaps to trade away the goods from below for produce, and return again to barter 



114 



SIMPLE FESTIVITIES OF THE K ASKASKIANS . 



at the southern cities; or, perhaps to bury a bag of French livres or louis-d'ors, or 
Spanish doubloons or dollars, beneath the floor of his home, and resume his labors 
in the fields. 

Whether the young wanderer returned richer or poorer in purse, he brought home 
one certain and lasting treasure — a great store of wild tales of incidents by flood and 
field, his own strange and varied experiences, and many more told him by the trap- 
pers of the mountains, the canoe-men of the river, and the various men he met in 
the cities of the south. The return of these travelers, after their long voyage of 
twelve or twenty months, Avas — like every festive occasion — celebrated by a ball; for 




ST. LOUIS IN 17.S0. 
From an original map made by Auguste Chouteau. 

here, as everywhere, dancing was a peculiar and prominent amusement of the light- 
hearted, social and active French. Word passed through all the settlement of the return 
of the wanderers, and at once the place of entertainment was fitted up, and the arrange- 
ments made. Young and old, grandfather and grandchild, negro slave and fair maiden, 
all came to join in the festive scene. The entertainment was regulated with the same 
quaint municipal orderliness that controlled the operations of tillage and pasturage. 
Provosts were appointed, male and female; usually some well-respected grandsire and 
grandam had charge of the ceremonial, saw that every lady was danced with, and that 
every gentleman had his partner, that the negro slaves enjoyed their rightful share of 



BEAN BALLS. 



115 



liberty within the room, that even the httle children had opportunity to frisk throuijh 
their share of the dance among the rest; and thus all passed innocently and gail}'. 
At a given hour the company separated, joyous and satisfied, all went home. The 
ball-room was often graced by the reverend presence of the priest of the village — 
for his simple parishioners had no social amusements which he could not approve and 
witness — and in these rustic gayeties there was a degree of propriety and dignity — I 
might almost say of decency — which it would be hard to match, I fancy, in the ball- 
room of our own more intelligently Christian, and more elaborately civilized society. 
Other balls they had, with somewhat more of ceremonious observance. On New 
Year's Eve the young men of the village patrolled the town in the costume of beg- 




OLD RESIDENCE OF GOV. A. M'NAIR, ST. LOUIS. 

gars, and entering the cottages in which dwelt the fairest maidens, petitioned for bread. 
Being well feasted and entertained, they then extended an invitation to each hospi- 
table damsel for the dance to-morrow evening. This was the inauguration of the festi- 
val of the coming year. About the eighth of that month great cakes were baked, 
and in these were carefully deposited four beans. The cakes were cut, and the gen- 
tlemen to whose share fell the pieces with beans in them, were called kings. These 
four bean-kings selected four queens, and the queens then selected the kings of the 
next ball that was to be given. At its close, the (|ueens of the occasion selected four 



116 KINGS AND QUEENS OF A NIGHT. 

other gentlemen, whom they elected to the honor of this shadowy kingship, inaugur- 
ating them with all due solemnity, by the granting of a kiss. These gentlemen in- 
augurated other ladies by the same interesting process, and they became the regulat- 
ors and o^overnors of the following ball. 

These people, with their kind and simple habits, easily fraternized with the 
Indians, and although there was great difference between them and those original 
owners of the soil, by reason of physical, mental and moral condition, their differ- 
ences seemed to relate and ally them more intimately to each other than white and 
red men were ever allied on this continent before. To the honor of both parties let 
it be said, there was scarce ever a fraud, a quarrel, or a murder between the French 
and Indians upon the soil of Illinois; and it constitutes, in this particular, the one 
only grand exception, saving the enterprise of Friend \Yilliam Penn in the establish- 
ment of his city of Brotherh' Love. And there, even, as soon as the good Penn 
himself had passed away, and the equally good, if not better, James Logan — who, 
after him came into the dignity of Secretary of the Colonj^ of Pennsylvania — so soon 
as their official sway and authoritative influence was gone, the Quakers were found to 
the full as overbearing, unjust, avaricious, careless, and regardless of the good of 
the natives, as the Puritan Fathers of New England. But these Frenchmen of Illi- 
nois, singularly enough it seems to the student of American history, in all their 
intercourse with the Indians treated them like human beings and equals in every 
respect, and received the kind and faithful treatment which was the natural result, 
in turn. The friendly and trustful reciprocity of benefits, the intimate neighborly 
communion between these forest Frenchmen and forest Indians, constitutes one of 
the few beautiful pages in the record of American colonization, usually so dry and 
barren, or so blood-stained and full of miseries. 

And thus, in that pleasant, untroubled, far-off land, and except for their happy 
family relation and the wise separate ownership of their lands, holding their property 
in common, sheltered almost like children under the mild influence of the good 
priests, to whom, as to a father, they told all their confidences of love, or their 
sorrows and troubles ; resting in sunshine, and far from wars and disturbance, beneath 
the broad banner with the lilies that streamed from the battlements of the old fort ; 
thus was enacted this brief poem of the ages, this Idyl of America. This atmosphere 
of rural freshness, of delightful confidence, of unrestrained liberty, free from the 
sordid, troubled, eager haste of trade, the hardening touch of avarice, the gnawing 
tooth of care — passed so far backward toward that lovely dream, the Golden Age, 



PEACEFUL HABITS LENGTH OF DAYS. 



117 



that in truth and reality it began to reproduce the lengthening of days, always a 
feature in the limning of that ancient legend. These people, it seemed, would have 
come to live forever, if forever were a possible term on earth. 

Thus went their lives kindly and cheerfully by, though Avith no impulse, little en- 
terprise, no inspirations ; and though it w^as, perhaps, but a droning life — no con- 
tribution to the accumulated treasures of the ages, no exemplification of the stern 
struggle for principle, nor of a mighty aspiration and effort for the ideals of the 
race — yet it was such a sunny, peaceful life, so (juietly, brightly joyous with the 
genial play of benign feelings, of the kindly social faculties of our natures, as glad- 




SIGHTING THK BUFFALOES. 



dens us to look upon. We must long, sometimes, to escape out of the mighty cur- 
rent of our civilized life, and to rest awhile upon some green island like this, where 
God's heaven hath not a cloud, where storm and tempest are unknown, where the 
still waters around us have not a ripple on their surface. 

Thus were they living, missionaries, fur-traders, voyageurs, farmers, simply and 
innocently, in honest labor and harmless enjoyments, in the year 1719 or 1720. A 
sort of border war was then carried on between the French in Louisiana under their 
great leader, Bienville, and the Spanish viceroyalty of Mexico. Offended Avith the 



118 A SPANISH INVASION. 

rapid daring with which the French were pushing their explorations and planting their 
outposts west of the Mississippi, and toward the great Santa Fe trail, which had even 
then been opened by traders, the Spaniards secretly organized a great expedition at 
Santa Fe, for the purpose of exterminating such of the French settlements on the upper 
Mississippi as they could reach, and substituting Spanish colonies instead; to which 
end were sent priests, artificers and women, property and domestic animals, all the 
materials for a new establishment. Their plan of operations was to join forces with 
the Osage Indians, and in concert with them, first to exterminate their enemies, the 
Missom-ies, the allies of the French, and then to quench the light of the flourishing 
settlements in a storm of blood and fire, and plant instead the standard of Spain. 

After a lono- desert march of nine hundred miles across the plains, which have of 
late years become so familiar to us, they reached the upland prairie country of Kan- 
sas, the supposed abode of their expected allies, the Osages. By a strange fortune 
they fell in with their intended victims, the Missouries, instead, who spoke the same 
lano-uage as the Osag-es ; and confident of their men, at once revealed to them the 
plan for the total destruction of their tribe. The imperturbable savages received the 
startling news with no sign of surprise, signified their approbation of the scheme, 
requested two days to assemble their warriors, and took their measures in savage 
secrecy. They drew from the Spaniards full details of the plan, and in character of 
the Osages, received the ample supplies of ammunition, and more than a hundred 
guns, destined for their own slaughter. 

The next morning was to witness the setting forth of the joint expedition. But to 
the treacherous and self-deluded Spaniards that morning never came. In the night 
the Missouries rose up and smote their invaders and slew them, until but one living 
soul was left — a Jesuit priest, whom they sent back to Santa Fe with the doleful 
tidings. 

Though thus providentially preserved, this nine hundred miles march awakened 
the apprehensions of the French for their distant settlements in Illinois and on the 
upper Mississippi ; and they promptly erected Fort Orleans on an island in the 
Missouri above the mouth of the Osage Eiver; and for the immediate defense of 
the Illinois settlements, that dignified and famous stronghold already mentioned, 
Fort Chartres. This fortress was completed during the 3ear 1720. It was placed 
about a mile and a half from the Mississippi River, within the great American Bot- 
tom which we have already described, near the five chief villages of the Illinois 
country — Kaskaskia, Cahokia, Prairie de Rocher, St. Philip, and Ste. Genevieve, 



DESCRIPTION OF FORT CHARTRES. 119 

which last alone was west of the Great Eiver. To these was soon added the villatre 

o 

of Fort Chartres, which grew up under the walls of the fort. 

This redoubted fortress, long the strongest garrison on the North American conti- 
nent, occupied an irregular square of about three hundred and fifty feet to the side. 
Its walls were of solid masonry, three feet thick and fifteen feet high. Its ramparts 
were defended by twenty great guns; and such was its strength and armament, that 
it was impregnable to any force then available against it. Here, for forty years, was 
the center of the French power in Illinois, the key of all the land, an important link 
of the great chain of fortresses between Quebec and New Orleans, the residence of 
the French commandant ; the metropolis of the gayety and fashion of all the country 
round; as an old Illinois chronicler, with pardonable local enthusiasm, calls it, "the 
Paris of America." But, alas, for the brief duration of human prosperity. In 
1765, the last French commandant of the Illinois, M. St. Ange de Bellerive, formally 
gave up the fort and his authority into the hands of the British captain. Sterling. 
And all this time the capricious, mighty flood of the Mississippi was silently march- 
ing across from the westward, arraying against its strong walls powers not to be op- 
posed by great guns nor by regiments of armed men. Steadily the eating flood 
swept nearer and nearer, and presently — in 1772 — two bastions were undermined. 
The English dismantled and deserted the old fort. Years ago part of its site had 
been swept away by the devouring river, and it was a venerable ruin, solitary and 
overofrown with wild vines and Avith trees, some a foot in diameter. 

The Spanish invasion had long passed by; and under the kindly despotic patri- 
archate of the commandant in Fort Chartres, and of the little village senates of old 
men, in the beauteous prairie land — where the land lies rolling like the billows of the 
sea, heaved in gentle undulations beneath the summer sun, studded with groves like 
islands far out on the deep, carpeted with flowers that lend their rich fragrance to 
the air, until for sweetness you seem to be walking in Paradise, where all that is 
around gladdens the senses and rejoices the heart — the French colonists lay down 
and rose up without fear or guile, thinking no evil against any, and themselves with- 
out apprehension of incursion of savage, attack from hostile army, or any robbery or 
theft or fraud. Here life was serene as if man were never driven out of Eden, and 
the cherubim stationed at the gate with flaming sword. 

But far away beyond the mountains was gathering the storm of war, which was to 
transfer all this vast valley from French to English hands, and to substitute for the 
bright, peaceful happiness which we have striven to depict, the rough and passionate 
cupidity of the Anglo-American backwoodsman — the violent sway of arms. 



CHAPTER V. 



WAR OF THE LILIES AND THE LION. 



ENGLAND APPEARS IN THE VALLEY HER MAGNIFICENT CLAIM FROM THE ATLANTIC TO THE 

PACIFIC. THE CLAIM EXAMINED. VIRGINIA GAINS A FOOTHOLD. GEORGE WASHINGTON, 

THE PIONEER. A VOLLEY HEARD AROUND THE WORLD. BRADDOCK'S ILL-STARRED EXPE- 
DITION. WILLIAM PITT AT THE HELM. VICTORY. CANADA AND THE GREAT WEST MADE 

ANGLO-SAXON. 

THE Spaniard, as we have seen, discovered the Great River from the South. 
The French discovered and settled its valley from the North. Between the 
two lay a vast extent of territory claimed by the great English nation by virtue 
of first discovery, and settled by it at an early day. England claimed all the 
country west to the South Sea (or Pacific Ocean), and her grants in her colo- 
nial charters stretched back to this western sea. These pretensions brought her 
at once into collision with the French, who early formed a j)lan to settle the whole 
valley of the Mississippi, and thus confine their English rivals to the compar- 
atively narrow belt between the Atlantic sea-board and the Alleghanies. This plan 
— first conceived by La Salle — by 1750 was nearly carried out, so that from Quebec 
to New Orleans there was a vast girdle of fortresses and confederate nations, the key- 
stone of which was the metropolitan stronghold, Fort Chartres, and held together 
and made accessible by the highway of the Great Lakes and the Mississippi. The 
upper Ohio Valley, however, had not yet been occupied, and in the summer of 1749, 
Gallisoniere, Governor of Canada, sent Louis Celeron with a party of soldiers to 
place plates of lead, bearing the claims of France, in the mounds and at the mouths 
of rivers. They also opened a wagon-road from Presque Isle (Erie), on Lake Erie, 
to French Creek, one of the head streams of the Alleghany River, where they built 
a fort. This was in 1752. The same year they sent a party of soldiers to clear 
the Ohio of intruders, which attacked an English fort or trading-house on the 
Miami, captured the defenders, and bore them away to Canada, where, as some 
accounts state, they were burned alive. News of this advance was quickly sent to 

120 



ENGLAND S MAGNIFICENT CLAIM. 



121 



the English colonies, and Governor Dinwicldie, of Virginia, at once dispatched a 
messenger to ask the French as to their design in thus entering the valley of the 
Ohio, — ^the Beautiful River — as the French boatmen called it. "For," said the 
English, "all the land is ours, from the stormy Atlantic across to the peaceful sea on 
the west ; because" — admirable logic — "our countrymen first settled the eastern shore. 
We deny the claim of the French to the Mississippi Valley, founded on the descent 
of its chief water-course, the river, by 'one La Salle' " — as Washington called him. 




THE STATE OF LAKES — MINNESOTA. 

Yet the title by which the English held the Atlantic slope was no better, if as 
good, as that of the French to the great inland valley. The only Englishman who 
had entered that valley before 1740 was Captain Barre, the agent of Dr. Daniel 
Coxe, proprietor of New Jersey, who entered the Mississippi River from its mouth 
in a corvette of twelve guns. Stemming the deep and muddy current, all at once 
the English captain was hailed from a small boat that met him in one of the reaches 
of the river. A lad of twenty-one, in command of the skiff— Bienville, then and long 
after Governor of Louisiana under the French king— stood up and addressed Captam 



122 



"THE ENGLISH TURN." 



Barre. The truth is, that his army was with him in that little boat, and he had 
scarce a better weapon than his naked hand, for he was on an exploring expedition, 
not a conquering one. Yet he hailed as sternly as if the commander of regiments 
and embattled forts. "Turn about," he ordered, "and go down the river. I am 
loth to harm you, but if you go beyond the next bend, I have guns enough in posi- 
tion there to blow you out of the water, and I will do it." The daunted Englishman, 
believing every word, obeyed, and escaped with his sloop-of-war as fast as he could 
from the boy and his boat's crew; and to this day the point in the river where he 




FALLS OF THE MISSOURI. 



retreated is called the English Turn. This was the only entrance of the Enfflish into 
the Mississippi Valley, until Dr. Walker's first exploring expedition over the Cum- 
berland Mountains, about 1748. 

What right had either nation to these lands? Said an old Delaware to an Enijlish 
partisan, "The king of France claims all the lands one side of the Ohio, and the kino- 
of England all on the other side. Now, where are the Indian's lands?" And the 
confounded backwoodsman was speechless. The red men owned the lands. Neither 
Onondio nor Corlear — neither Englishman nor Frenchman — had the shadow of any 
claim to a foot of land in the valley of the Mississippi. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON, THE PIONEER. 123 

But of all this the shrewd Scotch governor of Virginia neither thought nor cared. 
He rested satisfied upon the usual claim by discovery, and was the more certain of 
the justice of his country's pretensions, because his own estates in forest lands de- 
pended thereon. So he inquired by the mouth of his messenger, one Major Wash- 
ington of the Virginia provincial forces, what the king of France meant, and what 
his servants of Canada meant, by thus presuming to intrude upon undoubted English 
territory in the Ohio valley? The young major of course received a curt though 
courteous reply, and carried it back to those who sent him. 

Not, however, to let the affair rest ; for their glowing zeal for the pretensions of 
his Britannic majesty was intensified and made practical by their own. The Ohio 
Company of Virginia had received a gift — no matter though the king who gave it 
did not own it — of six hundred thousand acres of the best land west of the moun- 
tains; and in this company, two elder brothers of our youthful provincial major, and 
Governor Dinwiddle, were principal shareholders. If the French held the Ohio val- 
ley, these present broad domains on earth, and still fairer future castles in the air, 
would alike disappear, and great prospective gains be lost. This, we hasten to add, 
is said without meaning to impute any sinister motives to George Washington. He 
sincerely believed in the English claim, and in his own and his friends' property; 
and he would have been more than human if these j^ecuniary interests had not re- 
inforced the alacrity which he would, no doubt, have shown in the cause if he had 
never owned nor expected to own a foot of Ohio land. 

He returned, at any rate, in 1754, now promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel, 
and in command of a small bod}' of troops, to arrest the progress of the French, who 
had commenced actual hostilities b}^ taking from the English (in April, 1754,) a 
small stockade fort in the forks of the Alleghany and Monongahela Rivers, and by 
beo-inninof a stronger and more serviceable fortress in its place, which they called 
Fort Duquesne, in honor of the governor-general of Canada. Washington crossed 
Laurel Ridge, and gained the Great Meadows, a pleasant open spot some fifty miles 
southeast of the French stronghold. Here he learned from an old friend and com- 
panion in forest journeys, one Christopher Gist, settled near by, and from the half- 
king of the Delawares, Tanacharison, that a party of French were in his neighbor- 
hood, with warlike intentions. His Indian allies searched them out, and about sun- 
rise he discovered them encamped in a retired and secret place among the rocks. 
Discerning the tall form of the Virginian advancing from among the trees, and the 
troops behind him, they sprang to arms, and at once commenced a vigorous fire upon 



124 A VOLLEY HEARD AROUND THE AVORLD. 

the English. But surrounded and outnumbered, ten of them, including their com- 
mander, M. de Jumonville, were killed, and the remainder made prisoners. 

That brief command, "Fire!" echoed all over the earth. That scattering blaze of 
musketry among an obscure pile of wild rocks beneath the western Alleghanies, 
kindled a conflagration that spread throughout the continent of Europe, as fire runs 
through the dry prairie-grass in autumn time ; and burned even on the far shores of 
Asia. It was the beginning of the Seven Years' War, a struggle which called forth 
the genius of Pitt as a minister and parliamentarian, and of Frederic the Great as a 
warrior; which crushed the doctrine of legitimacy in France; and which, under the 
overruling of Him who sees the end from the beginning, not as man ordereth, but 
who maketh the wrath of man to praise Him, did more to elevate the masses of the 
populations of Europe, and to prepare the way for freedom and independence of our 
own country, than all other causes together. 

The war thus begun, Jumonville' s brother, De Villiers, commandant at Fort 
Chartres, hastened eastward to revenge his brother's death, and found Lieutenant- 
Colonel Washington still in the neighborhood, opening a military road for troops ex- 
pected from Virginia. The Frenchman came upon him with double his forces, but 
declining the battle which the bold young commander offered in the open ground be- 
fore the fort which he had constructed, he laid siege to the small and ill-provisioned 
stockade, which, with a judgment giving little promise of his after-wisdom, Wash- 
ington had planted in low ground, Avhere it was commanded and almost thoroughly 
raked from the secure covert of the wooded ridges on either side. An attack was 
soon commenced, and after nine hours of sharp firing, during which thirty of the 
garrison were killed and three wounded, the French commander, afraid that his am- 
munition would fail, allowed Washington to capitulate and retire east of the moun- 
tains with all the honors of war. The articles of capitulation, which were in French, 
by means of the ignorance or treachery of the interpreter, admitted the death of 
Jumonville to be an "assassination," and promised that no further establishments 
should be attempted west of the mountains for the term of one year. This obliga- 
tion was not taken to be binding. 

Then came the expedition of General Edward Braddock, whose hot-headed valor, 
absurd routinism, and arrogant conceit, we all know; as well as the inconceivable ob- 
stinate folly with which he persisted in trying to dress ranks, and form by platoons, 
among the forests, "as if manoeuvring his troops upon the plains of Flanders;" and 
the genuine English pride and stubbornness with which he refused to take advice 



WILLIAM PITT AT THE HELM. 125 

from the provincials, experienced in bush-ranging and Indian fighting; and how the 
hard-headed fool thus threw away his own life, and the lives of three hundred better 
men — great treasures wasted to no purpose — and also the certain prospect of taking 
Fort Duquesne; for nothing was further from the mind of the French and Indians 
than a victory, and they were on the point of evacuating the fort. 

And now, the great commoner, William Pitt, took the helm of English affairs. 
"What are we to do?" cried Chesterfield; "abroad, reverses and disgrace; at home, 
poverty and bankruptcy — what are we to do?" In America, the French line of mid- 
land forts was steadily and rapidly closing in behind the belt of English settlements 
along the sea. In India, the other side of the world, Dupleix had laid at Pondicherry 
the foundations of a power which promised quickly to exterminate the timid traders 
of the East India Company, and to bring the oriental wealth and the swarmino- 
millions of Hindostan beneath the power of France. In the Mediterranean, Minorca 
was taken by the French forces under the Duke de Richelieu. On the continent of 
Europe, the single ally of England of any power, Frederic of Prussia, was attacked 
at once by the three vast empires of Austria, France and Russia, and that in a quar- 
rel where he was flagrantly in the wrong: and the English king's own hereditary 
dominions of Hanover were overrun by French troops. The tremendous energy, the 
pride, the rapid decision and daring of the great minister, inspired fleets, armies, the 
whole nation. From being sullen, gloomy, discouraged, fearful, it became, in a year 
or two, daring, high-spirited, fearless and enterprising almost beyond the bounds of 
human belief or human capacity. Under his strong and energetic direction the 
stout Prussian king was brought safelj^ through his terrific war; Hanover was cleared 
of the French ; the coalition between Russia, Austria and France was shattered ; the 
victories of Clive and Lawrence eradicated the very foundations of the French em- 
pire in Hindostan, and laid the corner-stone of the vast dominion of British India. 
In America, the brave New England hosts took the stronghold of Louisbourg, and 
the gallant Wolfe, scaling the heights of Abraham, bought with his heart's blood 
the victory over Montcalm, and the surrender of the great French citadel of Quebec.^ 
An irresistible flood of British conquest swept around the world; and the humbled 
monarch of France, making peace in the year 1763, yielded up to Great Britain all 
Canada, and all Louisiana east of the Mississippi, excepting only the district and 
city of New Orleans, which, with all the rest of Louisiana, was given to the Span- 
iards by a private treaty made with Spain the year before. 



126 FOKE-SHADOWINGS OF ANGLO-SAXON CONTROL. 

Thus this great garden land, this granary for the nations, this home for the better 
time coming, to which we all look forward with such longings and such love, passed from 
the grasp of hereditary monarchy of the ancient French divine-right rulers, from 
under the heavy shadow of dead mediaeval law and dying feudal tenures, into the 
hands of England and Spain. Not, however, into their hands as in fee; not in per- 
manent proprietorship ; but in trust, for the future use and behoof of a people whose 
career, as we hope, shall fulfill the dreams of the long past, and realize that golden 
time of the world's history which the prophets saw in shadow, which the poets have 
told in broken words, and vain aspiration after adequate expression, which all good 
men pray for and look for; the period when the trustworthiness of the people shall 
be vindicated by their righteousness ; wdien the true equality of the nation shall be 
found, not in leveling those above, but in the raising of those below, by a celestial 
gravitation, to the level of the highest; when humanity, free, educated, justified, 
the Bible in its hand, and the love of God in its heart, and led by His Holy Spirit, 
shall stand as upon a lofty mountain summit of attainment, not upon a ghastly peak 
of cold sterility and eternal ice, but where the smile of God makes summer sunshine, 
and God's love makes all the air benign; where all humanity is bound together in 
bonds of brotherly love and kindness. 



CHAPTER VI. 



THE EED :\IAN AND THE WAR OF PONTIAC. 



LANGUAGK, DISPOSITION, MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE INDIANS OF THE WEST. PROWESS AND 

WOOD-CRAFT. THE THREE GREAT FAMILIES. TOTEMS. PONTIAC'S BIRTH, GENIUS, CHAR- 
ACTER. THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. SIEGE OF FORT DETROIT. UNIVERSAL RAPINE AND 

MASSACRE. FAILURE OF THE SIEGE OF THE CONSPIRACY. PONTIAC PROJECTS NEW PLOTS. 

COL. BOUQUET'S EXPEDITION. REDEEMS AMERICAN PRISONERS. MURDER OF PONTIAC. 

AT the beginning of Europe's acquaintance with America, so far as we can 
calculate, from one hundred and eighty thousand to three hundred thousand 
Indians occupied that tract of country now included within the limits of our republic, 
and lying between the Atlantic and the Father of Waters. These aboriginal tribes 
were divided into three families — the Algonquins, the Iroquois, and the Mobilian 
races. The Mobilians occupied the region of country lying south of the Ohio River 
and east of the Mississippi, including the States of Kentucky, Tennessee, western 
Georgia, western South Carolina, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana. The 
Iroquois, or Five Nations, subsequently increased to six by the addition of the 
Tuscaroras who migrated from western Carolina, dwelt in the Avestern part of 
New York. The remainder of the country was occupied by the tribes of that great 
family known as the Algonquins. While there were certain tribal peculiarities, 
certain distinctive features marking and separating these tribes, they yet shared 
features and traits in common, showing them to belong, all of them, to one gi*eat 
parent stock. Their manners, customs, views, opinions, modes of action and forms 
of speech, afford us reliable evidence of this. 

The Indian is the child of the wilderness, born amidst its rugged grandeur, cradled 
amidst its storms, surrounded with its vastness, schooled by it from his earliest 
infancy in the development of his perceptive faculties, almost to the exclusion of his 
reasoning powers; employed in those occupations which develop athletic strength of 
body, the chase, war, predatory incursions upon his neighbors; seeking his food 

127 



128 DOMESTIC RELATIONS OF THE RED MAN. 

from boundless hunting grounds. Nurtured in a school like this, the delicacy of his 
senses has passed into a proverb ; and he acquired such fineness of eye, such exquis- 
iteness of ear, as is scarce approached in the records of history. 

The relation between parent and child among the Indians constituted a peculiar 
feature, and one marking them among the nations of the earth distinct from all 
others. What is called parental authority was hardly known among them. The 
child Avas brought up in the wigwam of its parents ; but they never expected to 
impose upon it their authority, their will, their command. The child grew up his 
own master, basking and sporting around the door of the bark lodge, enjoying the 
care of the mother, the notice of the father, until, attaining nearly our own age of 
majority, he was prepared by vigil, fast, seclusion among rugged rocks in the depths 
of inaccessible forests — tried by visions and dreams, and communings with what he 
thought the Great Spirit — for his future career of heroism and conquest. American 
children, carried in their earliest years as captives to the homes of the Indians, 
nurtured and trained by their adopted red fathers and mothers, assert — and their 
evidence is conclusive — that they never saw a hand raised b}^ a parent against a 
child, and yet, so far as the conditions of their iron nature would permit, such tract- 
ableness, docility, loyalty, such glad and willing obedience from children to parents, 
is rarely to be found even in the highest stage of civilized society. That opposite 
beliefs are current, is true; and that there are examples of barbarous desertion, of 
inhuman cruelty from children toward their aged parents, when the latter have 
grown to be an incumbrance, is also true ; but these are the exceptions — the other is 
the rule. 

In that wild, unfettered, disjointed democracy, where the will of the people was 
the prominent source of power, men were exalted for their wisdom. The aged were 
the repositories of tradition, the repertories of good counsel, the vehicles of instruc- 
tion; they could not only tell of times long past, of ancestors long departed, but 
they could tell the pathways of the woods, the old feuds of the tribes, the manner 
of leading the young men to combat or to triumph ; and this attribute of abstract 
and practical wisdom exalted men to chieftainship. Their sachems or wise men were 
their leaders in all matters of counsel and debate, and the young men deferentially 
listened, standing around, their swarthy figures leaning against the door-posts of 
their cabins, or against some noble tree. While the father spoke, the sons listened 
in silence, and the words of the aged fell upon their ears and their hearts like the 
dew from the brow of the eveninij. 



THE FESTIVAL AND AVA'R-DANCE. 129 

There was another kind of chieftainship, however; another sort of authority be- 
sides this of wisdom in matters of counsel and debate. Those who were enterprisino- 
and dauntless, who burned to lead their brethren to war, could nominate themselves 
to a sort of temporarj chieftainship — a war chieftainship. These, if they had an}'- 
quarrel to settle, any wrong to avenge, any hope of success in some foray, were ac- 
customed, after vigil, fast, incantation — after dwelling apart until their features were 
harsh, their bodies shrunken, and they were reduced halfway to inanition — to come 
back to the wigwams of their nation, and to send invitations through the tribe to 
all the young men to meet them at a feast. Here abundant provision was spread 
before the guests, the chief dainty being commonly dog's meat ; and all must be dis- 
patched before they were allowed to depart. He who had summoned them, mean- 
while, sat in silence, abstaining from all gratification of appetite, albeit nearly 
famished. When the festival was ended, his body painted black, he sprang into a 
ring prepared for the purpose, in the center of which stood a blackened post ; around 
this he marched, singing a sort of recitative, a monotonous cadence, in which he 
recounted the deeds of his forefathers, and his own heroic achievements, every now 
and then brandishing his tomahawk and furiously striking it into the post in the 
center. Thus he inflamed the passions and imagination of his audience, till warrior 
after warrior sprang into the ring like himself, and in like manner chanted, recited, 
raved and struck. Then arose a fierce, tumultuous clamor of voices from all, and 
when they had aroused themselves to the highest pitch, of frenzy, the Avar-path was 
prepared. Decorated with fancy paints, and with all the ornaments the}^ could com- 
mand, and marching in single file, one, two or three miles from the village, if there 
was a convenient camping-ground near a brook, they paused, and discharged their 
guns slowly, one at a time. Here they encamped, and the ornaments and trinkets 
were gathered and sent back to the squaws at the village, to be kept till their return. 
Then, in silence, in single file, under the lead of this self-nominated chieftain, they 
proceeded upon their errand of destruction and blood. Whatever the result, when 
they returned great rejoicings were had in the village, or in the wigwams of the na- 
tion ; and if any had fallen, their manes were appeased by the sacrifice of such vic- 
tims as had been captured, their torture being considered a lawful and even oblig- 
atory offering, that should satisfy the spirits of the dead. 

But we are being drawn too much into detail, and must hasten to complete the 
rough outline, though with the omission of many interesting points. The leading 
and most remarkable peculiarities of the Indians were indomitable resolution and 
9 




INCIDENT IN THE UNIVERSAL KAPINE AND MASSACRE. 



THE THREE GREAT FAMILIES. 131 

endurance, haughty pride, daring and arrogance toward an enemy, a calm and un- 
moved exterior that hid impenetrably all thought and feeling, as a mantle of ice and 
snow the blazing fires of the volcano beneath ; and a natural wild independence, 
nourished and confirmed by their solitary perilous lives; which, though they might 
act voluntarily under the guidance of their self-appointed chieftains, preserved them 
unrestrained by any law, subject to no authority, bound to none by fealtj^ and sub- 
ordinated them only to the heroic virtues and pre-eminent abilities of their few great 
statesmen and warriors. Such salient peculiarities, exemplified too in such endless 
displays of savage heroism and skill and strength, cannot but open to the student of 
human nature a chapter of absorbing interest. 

All three of the great families, Mobilians, Iroquois and Algonquins, though the in- 
numerable battles between themselves sprinkled the whole continent with blood, were 
united by one singular and wide-extended bond of friendship, which well deserves a 
short consideration. This was that sort of free-masonry, or association into frater- 
nities, which may be called the Totemic, as depending upon the signs or emblems of 
these families, called their Totems. Such emblems were the Hawk, the Eagle, the 
Tortoise, the Bear, the Wolf, the Snake. And as these associations were limited 
neither to one nation nor set of nations, so we find, for instance, a family of the 
Wind among both the Mobilians and Iroquois ; a family of the Tortoise both among 
the Iroquois and the Algonquins. 

The brotherhood of the totem bound its members, whether in peace or war, to aid 
and comfort each other in whatever need. The lonely wanderer, Aveary and starvino- 
after a long and unsuccessful chase, could never ask in vain for relief and admittance 
at the cabin of one of his brethren of the totem, however far removed his lano-uao-e. 
tribe or blood. This singular association a little alleviated the many horrors of the 
constant warfare of the hunters of the woods. Another of its rules was, that mem- 
bers of one family or clan should not intermarry with each other; but that the youno- 
man of the totem of the Tortoise must choose his wife from the family of the Bear 
or the Hawk, or of any totem but the Tortoise. This provision, in strict conformity 
with physiological truth, was well calculated to perpetuate the physical vigor and 
hardihood, the integrity and individuality of the race. 

■ Hereditary distinctions, so far as they existed among the Indians, descended not 
directly in the male line, but collaterally through the female. Thus, it was not the 
son of the chief who inherited his chieftainship after him, but the son of the sister, 
or of some female relative of the chief. Nor was even this inheritance sure or neces- 



132 PONTIAC, CHIEF OF THE OTTAWAS. 

sary. No mantle fell by any law of succession upon unworthy shoulders. The can- 
><lidate for the authority of his uncle received and retained his power, if he did re- 
ceive it, because he also was pre-eminently wise in council, powerful in debate, saga- 
cious in planning, and heroic in strife. Wanting these merits, he fell unresistingly 
into a private station, and the poorest and obscurest youth of the tribe, if his abilities 
entitled him, assumed the power of sachem. Insignia the office had none. 

Such was the general character of the race whom the pioneers were now to meet 
and vanquish. The stronger and more courageous the enemy, the more glorious the 
victory, and never pioneer or adventurer encountered foe more courageous, crafty, 
tireless and unrelenting, than our fathers found in the Red Men of the valley. The 
Zulus and Moors of Africa and the Blacks of Australia ranked far below them as 
warriors. The natural conditions of their battle-ground also favored them. This 
was the mighty forest that, except on the prairies of Illinois and Indiana, then cov- 
ered the entire hither side of the Mississippi, and formed an admirable cover in which 
to attack and retreat. In this forest the Indian was at ease. He had been born and 
reared in it. Its most intricate recesses were open to him. He could no more be 
lost in it than the sailor on the ocean. He moved through it as easily as the panther, 
which he resembled in the stealthiness and celerity of his movements, and fell upon 
the settler's cabin or fort, murdered, scalped, burned, and was away into the forest 
depths again before a force could be raised to pursue with any prospect of success. 
His hatred, his ferocit}", his cunning, his address as a warrior — often stimulated by 
hopes of reward or by evil tales — are to be considered in this story of the conquest of 
the promised land by the pioneers. 

As an exponent of Indian character and address, none perhaps equaled Pontiac, 
chief of the Ottawas. The story of his life and achievements will illustrate fully 
enough for our purpose the nature and resources of the foe our forefathers were 
called upon to contend with. 

In the fall of 1760, French power in Canada and the Valley having been trans- 
ferred to England, the British commander-in-chief, Sir Jeffrey Amherst, dispatched a 
New Hampshire ranger. Major Robert Rogers, with a party to take possession of the 
French forts west of the Lakes, and that hardy adventurer, at the head of two hun- 
dred men, in a fleet of whaleboats, proceeded as far as the present city of Cleveland-, 
which he reached in November, 1760. Here his advance was arrested by a party of 
Indians, who met him, saying that they were envoys of one Pontiac, the monarch of 
all that realm, and who bade him halt there until a conference should be had with 
him. 



HIS PROUD DEMAXD OF THE ENGLISH. 133 

Thus steps forth, for the first time within the light of history, from the obscurity 

of his small tribe — the Ottawas, then fugitives among the great Algonquin nation 

the Ojibwas of Lake Superior— from the destroying fury of the terrible Iroquois— 
the mighty chief, Pontiac, sometimes even called the Emperor of the Ottawa In- 
dians, so extensive was his sway, and so vast his power. 

Before nightfall the chief made his appearance, and proudly demanded wherefore 
the English were in his country? Rogers made answer that the English, having con- 
quered the French, were now taking possession of the forts of the vanquished, and 
that this was his errand to Detroit. Taking until the next day to answer, the Indian 
chieftain concluded with prompt, decisive wnsdom that the English power was, in 
truth, becoming uppermost, and that he would worship the rising sun. He returned 
and made a corresponding reply; and on the journey averted at least one intended 
attack by the Detroit Indians. 

While with Rogers, Pontiac was very inquisitive to learn how the English man- 
ufactured such guns of the black rock, called iron ; how cloth was woven, and powder 
made ; how they drilled and disciplined their troops ; and asked a thousand other 
questions about European matters. 

A year or two passed away, and British troops and British influences had replaced 
those of France through all the vast belt of inland possessions which had for nearly a 
century owned the power of the French king. It is not necessary here to describe 
the difference, so often enlarged upon, between the light-hearted, social and plastic 
French, and the haughty, gruff and arrogant English, in their intercourse with the 
punctilious and irritable sons of the forest. Instead of the generous and easy hos- 
pitality, the careful, courteous and indulgent observance, with which the French of- 
ficers and traders had so judiciously and successfully treated the Indians, they were 
suddenly everywhere used with rude, overbearing insolence, neglected, driven off with 
curses, and even with blows — the last indignity to Avhich an Indian could be subjected. 

And while this unhappy course on the part of the English, together with the brutal 
swindling of their traders, the rapid advance of their settlements, the ruin of the In- 
dian's hunting grounds, and the swift and steady circumscription of his territories, 
kindled all along the Indian frontier the smouldering enmity that ever and anon 
flamed out into murders and devastating inroads by individuals and war-parties of the 
young men of one and another tribe ; the chiefs themselves, long accustomed to the 
special distinctions and valuable presents which formed so agreeable a part of the 
French system of colonial administration, were still more bitterly mortified and 



134 PONTIAC'S DESIRE FOR HIS PEOPLE. 

enraged at the neglects and insults which they received from the coarse and proud 
men with whom tJie British forces were almost always officered. 

Pontiac felt all this, and felt it the more profoundly, by as much as the depth of his 
intellect and the strength of his passions and pride surpassed those of his savage 
contemporaries. But his wrath, sorrow and mortification were a thousandfold more 
inflamed by disappointments of a character which very few of the tribesmen under 
his command could even comprehend, much less sympathize with. 

The dream and desire of his life was the progress and improvement of his people, 
and their advance in power and happiness. And so just and far-reaching were the 
views of this wild Ottawa sachem, that he comprehended the necessity for the man- 
ufactures of civilized races, and would fain have rendered the tribes independent of 
both English and French, in this respect, by enabling them to supply all their own 
wants. He neither loved nor feared the English nor the French, and his alliance 
with each, and his preference for either, was decided singly by the advantage which 
he hoped to secure to his race. So long as the French held much territory and many 
fortresses in America, he remained in alliance with them. When they were con- 
quered, and the places of their troops filled b}^ the red-coated soldiery of England, he 
as promptly made friends .with the English. 

But the hopes of elevating and bettering his race, which, though delusive, had 
lono- been maintained by the fair professions and careful external observances of the 
Frenchmen, were quickly quenched by the more honest rudeness, neglects and in- 
sults which the British officers inflicted upon the Indians; and Pontiac soon per- 
ceived that the Ottawa nation, and all the Indian tribes, would perish, unless their 
white invaders could be destroyed, or their progress arrested. This design he at 
once set about accomplishing; and forthwith he organized a conspiracy, far the most 
gio-antic ever originated by an Indian on this continent, and which, for extent, 
secrecy, and ability of conception and execution, will vie with any plot in history. 

His own personal qualifications and the circumstances of the time made the op- 
portunity a perfect one. In the prime of a leader's life — being about fifty years old 
— despotic ruler of the confederated tribes of the Ottawas, Pottawatomies, and the 
third ally, the great tribe of the Ojibwas — long possessed of a paramount influence 
over all the Indians of Illinois, and known and honored throughout all the wide ter- 
ritories of the Algonquin race — no other chieftain could have aroused such hosts as he, 
or could have sustained or controlled their wrath so long; nor were the Indians at any 
other time so extensivelv or fiercelv hostile to their white aofgressors. From the distant 



THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 135 

trading-stations in the cold regions beyond Lake Superior, to the far southern tribes 
back of the settlements in Carolina and Georgia, the savages were all yet hot with 
their anger of the recent strife in which they had fought for the French; and this 
wrath was still more vehemently enkindled by the insulting treatment of which Ave 
have spoken, by the brutal conduct and enormous impositions of the English fur- 
traders, and still more by the ominous rapidity with which the white frontier marched 
westward, destroying one hunting-ground after another, covering the lands, and an- 
nihilating or expelling the tribes. 

In the latter portion of the year 1762, therefore, there went out from the Ottawa 
village, which stood just below Lake St. Clair and above Fort Detroit, on the Can- 
ada side of the river, many messengers. They sped into the distant forests of the 
northern Algonquins beyond the great Lakes ; to the banded nations of the Iroquois ; 
to the pacific Delawares in Pennsylvania ; to the savage Tuscaroras, and the warlike 
Mobilians, west of Carolina and along the Gulf coast; to the various tribes all along 
the Mississippi ; and to the nations of the Illinois country. Everywhere they carried 
the great red war-belt and the words of the great Pontiac ; and everj^where, in re- 
sponse to the wild call of the savage envoy, the young men rose up and prepared for 
war. To all was appointed a certain time in the next May, when every tribe was to 
exterminate the garrison nearest it, and the whole wild host were then to break in 
upon the settlements. And all the savage confederates, and Pontiac himself — who 
in this was deluded with the rest — expected decisive succor from the armies of the 
French king, which they believed to be on the march to recover their Canadian 
possessions. This expectation was kept up by the reports of the Canadian French, 
and even by forged letters, giving advice of the march of the French troops u}) the 
St. Lawrence. 

The spring arrived; and in all the long range of English forts, from Michilimacki- 
nac and Sault Ste. Marie to the northwestward, to Fort Niagara, and all along the 
line of lake forts, Detroit, Sandusky and Presque Isle, and south by ^^enango and 
Fort Pitt to the frontier posts in the west of Virginia, all seemed safe and secure. 
Here and there had been heard or seen indistinct signs of irritation among the sav- 
ages ; and in one instance — at Fort Miami — the commander had even heard of the 
war-belt, held a council with the Indians about it, reproved them, and sent the 
news, and their cunning disclaimers, to Major Gladwyn, at Detroit, and he to Sir 
Jeffrey Amherst, at New York. But none dreamed of anything worse than a tern- 



136 



THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 




Pontiac 
est of all 



INDIANS ATTACK FORT DETROIT. 

porarj state of uneasiness 
among the tribes ; and the 
English forces in his majes- 
ty's coloniesin North Amer- 
ica remained dispersed and 
feeble, and all the roj-al 
posts careless, and almost 
unrestrainedly open to the 
Indians. 

himself determined to begin the war by attacking Fort Detroit, the strong- 
the English posts in the Indian country, except Fort Pitt. After the 



PONTIAC'S STRATAGEM AT FORT DETROIT. 137 

Indian fashion, he at first tried stratagem. Having unsuspectedlj made a satisfactory 
reconnoissance of the interior of the post, he entered it some days afterward, on pre- 
tense of a council, with three hundred chosen warriors, all armed for war, and with 
their guns cut short and hidden under their blankets. But Major Gladwyn, the En- 
glish commander, a cool and brave man, had been put on his guard only the niffht 
before by his Indian favorite, a beautiful Ojibwa girl named Catharine. Making all 
the necessary preparations, therefore, he deliberately admitted the savage host. They 
saw with dismay the military array of the garrison, and only after uneasy delay would 
they seat themselves, and go through the deceitful ceremonies under cover of Avhich 
they had intended to murder the commandant and his force, and to throw open the 
gates to the Indian army without. Pontiac made a speech, as usual on such occa- 
sions, professing friendship and peaceful intentions as if he had, as heretofore, come 
only for rum and presents. He even raised his hand with the peace-belt of wampum, 
the giving of wdiich was to have signaled the onset of his braves, but paused in 
speechless amazement when, at that very moment, in obedience to Gladwyn 's com- 
mand, the rattle and clash of weapons, and the roll of the drum sounded from with- 
out the room. After a short and somewhat stern repl}^ f rom Gladwyn, the Indians 
departed in disappointment and anger, but yet quite sure that the English were either 
utterly ignorant of their scheme, or arrant cowards if not, for letting them escape 
alive. And accordingly, Pontiac visited Gladwyn with a few companions next day, 
to endeavor to confirm him in a belief in their peaceful intentions, and one day after- 
ward, tried to obtain admission into the fort with a large number of his warriors. 
Being now bj'iefly and sternly refused, the savages, bursting at once into all the 
fiendish rage of Indian warfare, murdered two English families who lived at a short 
distance, and the next day closely invested the fort; a mixed and numerous swarm 
of four nations, Ottawas, Pottawatomies, Wyandots and Ojibwas, all under the com- 
mand of the chief Pontiac. 

At once, along the far-stretching frontier, the dark forests swarmed with war- 
parties. All the English posts west of the mountains were attacked. Traders, travel- 
ers, and immigrants, the forlorn hope of the advancing invasion of the white settle- 
ments, w^ere killed. Every secluded farm or lonely hamlet that fringed the interval 
between huntingf-orrounds and farms, was burned. Hundreds and hundreds of fam- 
ilies were exterminated, or driven back within the area of the denser settlements, 
scared and penniless, and too often with the loss of some of the beloved circle. 



138 FORT AFTER FORT CAPITULATES. 

Such was the perfection of this gigantic project, and the secrecy of its thousands 
of confidants for months together, that the savage outbreak was nowhere expected 
except for those few hours of warning at Detroit, and even there it was many days 
before Ghidwyn would beheve it to be more than a temporary outbreak of anger, or 
that all the posts were assaulted so nearly together that none could assist any other. 
One after another, in rapid succession, eight of them fell. On the 16th of May, 
Fort Sandusky was surprised by a body of Indians, who gained admittance as friends, 
and murdered all but the commander and two or three of the garrison. On the 25th, 
St. Joseph's, at the south end of Lake Michigan, was seized in a similar manner, 
eleven men of the little garrison having been killed, the other four made prisoners, 
and the fort plundered; all within two minutes after the signal yell was given. Two 
days afterward, Fort Miami, on the Maumee, was surrendered to the savages. Ensign 
Holmes, the commander, having been enticed out and shot dead, and the sergeant 
taken prisoner. On the 1st of June a similar stratagem made the Indians masters of 
Fort Ouatanon on the Wabash, the garrison, however, being all preserved alive, and 
sent prisoners to the Illinois country. On the 4th, the Ojibwas, by means of a game 
of ball called baggatiway, surprised Fort Michilimackinac, massacred nearly all of 
the garrison, made prisoners of the rest, and seized the large quantities of liquor, 
stores and merchandise, public and private, accumulated in that important depot of 
the Indian trade. On the 15th, after a siege of twenty-four hours, eighteen of 
them of incessant furious attacks, with the aid of intrenchments and mines, and of 
desperate hardihood in defense, Fort Presque Isle was surrendered, and the garrison, 
despite a capitulation providing that they might retire to the nearest post, were sent 
prisoners to the camp of Pontiac at Detroit. On the 18th, Fort Le Boeuf , a few 
miles south of Presque Isle, on a branch of the Alleghany, was attacked toward night- 
fall by a large body of Indians, and set on fire by fire-arrows ; but the commander 
and his little squad of thirteen men, desperate with their horrible peril, cut a way out 
through the rear of the block-house while the Indians were waiting to see them driven 
out through the door by the flames, and fled away to Fort Pitt; six of them, utterly 
exhausted, being left behind in the woods. And lastly. Fort Venango, still further 
south, at the junction of the same stream with the Alleghany, was about the same 
time surprised by a large force of Senecas, who, admitted as friends, murdered all 
the garrison except the commander, tortured him for several nights over a slow fire 
until he died, burnt down the works and departed. Fort Pitt, Fort Ligonier, some 



BUT FORT DETROIT STILL HOLDS OUT. 



139 



distance southwest of it, and Fort Augusta, on the Susquehanna, were also attacked, 
but the Indians were repulsed. 




THK OJIBWAS SURPRISE AND CAPTURE FOKT MICHILIMACKIN AC. 

And now the English held not one fortified post west of Fort Pitt, save Detroit 
alone, where the undismayed Gladwyn still maintained himself, though closely 



140 PONTIAC'S VERSATILITY AND RESOURCES. 

beleaguered by the great confederate host under Pontiac. The vigor and constancy 
of this siege are without precedent in Indian histor3^ From the beginning of May 
until the end of October did the power and influence of their indomitable leader 
hold the savage host in watchful array against the fort ; wearying the scanty garrison 
with a fire of musketry that left them no rest day or night; contriving plan after 
plan to destroy the two small vessels which remained under the protection of the 
works, and served to guard the water front ; to rake the north and south side of the 
walls, and to make an occasional attack upon the enemy's camp. 

No other Indian chieftain — at least none of pure blood, for an exception must be 
made in favor of General Alexander McGilliva'ay, the chief of the Creeks — ever 
showed such breadth and quickness of mind in comprehending and practicing the 
arts of civilized life, a characteristic not less indicative of the lofty rank of his intel- 
lect, than was that vast magnetic power which enabled him so long to concentrate 
and wield the forces of those flittino; and unstable warriors of the woods. Unable to 
read or write, he employed one secretary to write letters and another to interpret 
those received, and with diplomatic shrewdness, kept each ignorant of the business 
of the other. To satisfy until he could pay the French Canadians from whose 
live-stock he was forced to support his army, he issued securities of the nature of 
notes of hand, drawn on birch bark and signed with his totem, the otter, which were 
all punctually redeemed. He organized a regular commissariat department, gather- 
ing into one stock the provisions thus collected, and which he levied after a fixed rate 
from the Canadians in the neighborhood, and distributing them again to his forces; 
rigidly protecting the farms from depredation, and even making his followers avoid 
trampling on growing crops. 

Not less remarkable Avere the bravery and versatile skill employed in the ojjera- 
tions for attack. All the slender means of Indian warfare were exhausted in assault- 
ing the palisades of the fort. Repeated attempts were made to ])urn the two vessels 
by fire-rafts sent down the river. A detachment of nearly a hundred men, sent to 
relieve the fort, was surprised by a party of A^^yandots when within thirty miles of 
their destination, sixty of them taken or slain, and the rest driven back to the east- 
ward in but two of their eighteen boats ; and the ample stock of provisions and am- 
munition intended for the besieged all fell into the hands of the Indians. The 
schooner Gladwyn, one of the vessels attached to the fort, was fiercely attacked by 
the Indians while in the river below, on her way up with a small re-inforcement, and 
was driven back to the lake, though a second attempt carried her up to the fortress 



THE SIEGE OF FORT DETROIT ABANDONED. 141 

in safety, with her men and supplies. Captain Dalzell, a companion in arms of Gen- 
eral Putnam, arrived at the fort toward the end of July, with a second re-inforcement 
of nearly three hundred men, and obtained with difficulty from the cautious Gladwyn 
permission to lead a party to endeavor to surprise Pontiac's camp. But the wary 
chief, informed by some Canadians of the intended attack, ambuscaded them on the 
way, and they were only able to return to the fort by the exercise of great skill and 
coolness in manoeuvring, and with the loss of fifty-nine killed and wounded. One of 
the English schooners was attacked again, while returning from Niagara, and in 
spite of cannon and small-arms, and a most heroic defense by her little crew of 
twelve men, would have been taken, had not the Indians been scared at the sudden 
order of the mate to blow up the schooner, and all jumped overboard to escape. 

But the obstinate resolution of Major Gladwyn; the re-inforcements from the east; 
the weariness of this long siege, now severely felt by the Indian host; the failure of 
their ammunition; the receipt of a letter which the French commander at Fort 
Chartrcs had reluctantly dispatched at the demand of Sir Jeffrey Amherst, and 
which informed Pontiac that the French were at peace with the English, and that he 
could expect no aid from them ; and the approach of winter, when the Indians must 
of necessity scatter themselves abroad in the forests to keep themselves alive by 
hunting — all these causes conspired to disappoint this central portion of the great de- 
sign of Pontiac. The Wyandots and Pottawatomies had made a peace during July, 
which, however, they afterwards broke; but in October they sought, together with 
the Ojibwas, to make a regular treaty. Gladwyn consented to a truce, and instantl}' 
taking advantage of the opportunity, soon had his garrison provisioned for the whole 
winter. And Pontiac, cruell}" enraged and disappointed, with no forces left but his 
own Ottawas, and at last giving up his hopes of French aid, left Detroit, and de- 
parting to what is now the northwest part of Ohio, set about stirring up the Indians 
of that region, intending to resume the siege of Detroit in the spring. 

The brief sequel of his war and of his life are soon told. In the spring of 1764, 
the English government resolved upon a judicious scheme for the organization of 
trade and intercourse with the Indians. 

As a necessary preliminary, however, they sent two armies, one under Col. Brad- 
street, along the lakes, and another under Col. Bouquet, through Pennsylvania, into 
the heart of the Indian country, to bring the tribes into submission. Of this latter 
commander and this expedition it is fit that some account should be here given. 



142 THE BATTLE OF BUSHY RUN. 

Col. Henry Bouquet was a native of the Swiss canton of Berne, was a soldier from 
his boyhood, and had been in the service of Sardinia and Holland before he became 
lieutenant-colonel of the Royal Americans, a corps raised in America, chiefly of Ger- 
mans, and officered by foreigners. It was now the Sixtieth Kifles. In this command 
Bouquet had already gained a high reputation in Pennsylvania as a noble and accom- 
plished man and soldier. During the previous year, while in charge of a small force 
and a convoy for the relief of Forts Bedford, Ligonier and Pitt, he had commanded at 
the desperate battle of Bushy Run, one of the hardest fought fields ever contested 
between the whites and Indians. This was on August 5th, 1763, when Bouquet's 
little army of only about five hundred men, many of them invalids from the unhealthy 
service in the West Indies, was suddenly attacked while on the march, some twenty- 
five miles from Fort Pitt, by a force of Indians about as numerous as the English, 
but having the great advantages of complete knowledge of the forest and of its war- 
fare. Bouquet, with ready skill, formed his men into a circle round his horses and 
baofirao-e, and from one o'clock until einrht sustained a furious and incessant attack. 
The yelling savages, with a boldness rare in their system of fighting, rushed against 
the slender line of English with a close and heavy fire; and then, when the Eng- 
lish, after one sharp volley, charged with the bayonet, they leaped back out of 
reach, and a moment afterward dashed at another portion of the ring. At night- 
fall they drew off, having lost very few, while sixty of the soldiers, besides oflicers, 
were killed or disabled. Bouquet made his men encamp in the order of battle, upon 
their arms, making every preparation against a night attack ; and thus, in momentary 
expectation of the foe, weary and thirsty — for the hill on which they were afforded 
no water, and none dared seek it — and without fire, lest the light should guide the 
forest marksmen, the beleaguered little army awaited daylight, the wounded being 
deposited within a sort of breastwork of bags of flour. At early dawn next morning 
the Indians resumed the battle in the same manner, attacking furiously, firing, and 
vanishins: into the forest whenever the English charged forward from their narrow 
ring. Thus they fought until about ten o'clock, suffering actual agonies of thirst, 
their little force gradually thinning under the fire of the Indian rifles. At length the 
weary ranks began to lose strength and courage. Perseverance in their cunning tac- 
tics must infallibly have given the savages the victory ; but at the moment when this 
became evident, the cool and shrewd Bouquet snatched it from them by a well- 
planned stratagem. He caused two companies to withdraw from the line of defense, 
as if retreating, toward the center of the circle. The Indians, perceiving this, 



THE BATTLE OF BUSHY RUN. 



143 



charged with redoubled furv upon the weakened line, and were on the point of break- 
ing through when the two companies, who had taken advantage of some low and 




A DEADLY LEAP. 



wooded ground for their manceuvre, and had passed out of the circle and made a 
short circuit in the forest, burst upon the flank of the Indians, and delivered a heavy 



144 COL. HENRY BOUQUET's EXPEDITION. 

and deadly volley. The savages, though taken entirely by surprise, faced about and 
intrepidly returned the fire; but fled, when these new opponents charged violently 
with fixed bayonets. Two other companies, placed in ambush for the purpose, as 
the routed savages fled across their front, rose and gave them another destructive 
volley, and then, all the four charging together, the savage foe fled, routed and en- 
tirely broken and discouraged, leaving about sixty of their number dead on the ground 
— an enormous loss for them. The command, setting out again next day, reached 
Fort Pitt in safety; and Col. Bouquet received, for his courage and conduct in this 
important battle, the thanks of the Pennsylvania Assembly, and of the king. 

Col. Bouquet was thus naturally selected to head the southern of the two expedi- 
tions of 1764 against the Indians, as he had proved his judgment and skill upon the 
very ground now to be traversed again ; and accordingly, a force of about eighteen 
hundred men, regulars, Pennsylvania provincials, and Virginia riflemen, having been 
mustered at Carlisle on the 5th of August, Bouquet assumed command, after the 
troops had been addressed b}^ Governor Penn, and in a few days, the army marched 
for Fort Loudon. Their commander, well aware of the danger of the enterprise, 
used every precaution that experience and foresight could suggest. He established 
the strictest discipline, shooting a couple of deserters at Fort Loudon before he 
could enforce it to his mind ; allowed not one woman to accompany the arm}-, except 
one to each corps, and two nurses ; and arranged a careful and well-protected order 
of marching, in open order, in a parallelogram, the baggage and cattle in the center, 
and with many outlying parties and scouts in the woods in advance. When he 
reached Fort Loudon, three hundred of the Pennsylvanians had deserted, and he 
remained there some weeks to recruit. Bradstreet, commanding the northern expedi- 
tion, had now reached Presque Isle on Lake Erie, where a pretended Indian embassy 
met him and fooled him into negotiations, intending on their part merely to prevent 
his advance, while all the time their warriors were murdering and burning on the 
frontier. But Bouquet disregarded the peace thus made, and Gage annulled it. 

Setting forth again from Fort Loudon, Bouquet reached Fort Pitt in September, 
and there delayed again until October 3d, when, leaving the fort, he plunged into 
the untraversed forest, marching toward the Indian towns on the pleasant banks of 
the Muskingum. In the same careful order, ready at any moment to form in a 
defensive ring around the baggage if attacked, and filling the woods far in advance 
and on the flanks with the Virginia scouts, he proceeded, unable to advance more 
than from five to twelve miles a day ; until after ten days' diflicult progress, he fixed 



AMERICAN TRISONERS REDEEMED. 



145 



himself in the heart of the Indian country, and within striking distance of all their 
villages, except the Shawanee tov;ns on the Scioto. 

Here the fierce tribes, dismayed at the presence of what was to them a mighty 
host, and conscious that they could offer no adequate resistance to Bouquet and 
Bradstreet, met the former ; and after some negotiations — in the course of which their 
mortification and sullen pride, mingled with an evident fear almost abject, rendered 
their speeches, usually so figurative and vivid, dull, spiritless and commonplace — the 
Indians complied with Bouquet's demands, delivered up more than two hundred 







INDIANS KETURNING A PRISOIvEi;. 



prisoners, and faithfully promised to send in the rest in the spring. After deposing 
a contumacious Delaware chief, and causing a successor to be appointed, exacting 
hostages for good behavior, and prescribing the immediate sending of a deputation 
to Sir William Johnson to agree upon terms of peace, Bouquet, who had hitherto 
treated the savages with chilling and overawing sternness, relaxed his demeanor, and 
held another council, in which he treated them in a friendly manner. 

Many accounts have been given of the extraordinary scenes at the delivery of the 
Indian prisoners. Numbers of the frontiersmen who had accompanied the expedition 

10 



146 AFFECTING KE-UNIONS AFTER LONG SEPARATION. 

had done so in the hope of regaining wives, children, or rehitives, in captivity in the 
wilderness. The whole annals of human history could scarcely furnish a record of 
another scene so moving and so wonderful as this for the exhibition of varied and 
violent human passions. Day by day the lost white people came back in troops, 
many of them, powerfully held by the strange love of the wilderness, coming with 
reluctance, and even bound as prisoners to prevent them from fleeing back into the 
forest. Women even would fain have remained in the cabins of the dusky hus- 
bands of their captivity to train their 3'oung half-breeds in forest nurture. In truth, 
the strangest feature of the scene was the comparative indifference of the rescued 
captives, contrasting so strongly with the overwhelming agitation of the friends who 
sought them. Husbands sought wives, and parents children, trembling and weep- 
ing, doubtful of them when found, changed as they were by the growth of years and 
the exposures of forest life ; and the strange magnetism of human passion, seizing 
upon all around, even infected the rudest of the soldiers, who sympathized in the 
sorrows or the joys of the occasion; many of them not even able to refrain from 
tears. 

One of the most affecting occurrences of the occasion was the recognition by an 
aged mother of her daughter, who, carried away nine years before, was among the 
captives. The eyes of the parent, sharpened by natural affection, discerned the 
features of her lost child in those of a swarthy and sunburnt young female ; but her 
lono- captivity had deprived the girl of almost every word of the English which she 
had acquired at the early age when she was stolen, and she quite failed to recognize 
her old mother, who lamented, with rude, affecting sorrow, that the daughter whom 
she had so often sung to sleep, had so utterly forgotten her. Bouquet, a man of 
kind feelinofs as well as readv intellect, seized the hint which the sorrowinir mother 
did not perceive, and told her to try the experiment of singing the song with which 
she had put her child to sleep. She did so ; and the long-forgotten simple strain 
unsealed the daughter's memory and awoke her affections at once; and weeping and 
rejoicing, she fell upon her mother's neck. 

But the wondrous magic of the wilderness, the innate savagerj^ that is somewhere 
hidden in almost every heart, were singularly proved by the actions of some of the 
captives this day redeemed. Of all the white women who had taken Indian husbands, 
not one, even though her children came v.itli her, returned willingly to civilized life; 
and several of them afterward actually escaped back to their red lords, their wigwams^ 
and the forest. 



DEATH OF THE SUCCESSFUL LEADER— BOUQUET. 147 

The business of the expedition thus prosperously accomplished, Bouquet and his 
little army returned upon their footsteps, and safely regained the settlements. The 
successful leader received a vote of thanks, most flatteringly worded, from the 
Pennsylvania Assembly, and another from that of Virginia- and also a more sub- 
stantial token of the appreciation of his service,., in his appointment by the king to 




SETTLERS IN CAMP ON THE MUSKINGUM. 



the rank of brigadier-general, with the command of the ^^outhern department in 
North America. Col. Bouquet did not, however, long survive to fulfill the hopes 
inspired by his remarkable excellences and success, for he was; carried off by a fever 
at Pensacola onlv three vears afterward. 



148 ALLIANCE BETWEEN THE BRITISH AND THE INDIANS. 

Colonel Bradstreet, permitting himself to be deluded by the Indians, as we have 
stated, accomplished but a small part of his intended purposes ; but he effectually 
relieved Detroit, which had now been besieged more or less closely for fifteen months — 
for Pontiac had recommenced the siege in the Spring. 

Shut out from hopes of success elsewhere, Pontiac now passed into the Illinois 
country, whither the English forces had not yet penetrated, and with untiring activ- 
ity began to organize a new league of those tribes that inhabited Illinois and dwelt 
along the banks of the Mississippi River. His design was to keep closed to the Eng- 
lish the rich country of the Illinois, by guarding the two approaches to it, by the 
Mississippi and by the Ohio. But although two attempts to ascend the Mississippi 
with British troops were unsuccessful, this last plan of the great Indian leader was 
frustrated by the negotiation of an English envoy, the fur-trader George Croghan, 
who moved westward to prepare a path for the troops which Gage, Amherst's suc- 
cessor, proposed to send to take possession of the ancient French stronghold of Fort 
Chartres. Finding himself deserted by one discouraged tribe after another, and fail- 
ing to obtain any aid from the French, either in Illinois or at New Orleans, he at last 
resolved to seek peace with the English ; and meeting Croghan at Fort Ouatanon on 
the Wabash, he concluded an alliance with him, which he confirmed at a great coun- 
cil of the northern tribes held a short time afterward at Detroit ; ending his speech 
as any other Indian would, by begging for rum. 

Next spring the great chief proceeded eastward to Oswego, where he again con- 
firmed his alliance with the English, and gave up the vast plans which he had con- 
ceived for the preservation of the Indian race. Carrying many valuable gifts, he re- 
turned westward to the Maumee. Here we lose sight of him for four years, which 
he doubtless spent in hunting or in feud, like his warrior brethren. 

In April, 1769, he suddenly and for the last time reappeared, coming out of his 
woods into the Illinois country, to the great uneasiness of the English traders in 
those parts. He crossed the great river and visited his old friend St. Ange de Bel- 
lerive, now commanding at St. Louis for the Spaniards. After a time he heard of 
some meeting of Indians across the river at Cahokia, assembled there for pleasure; 
and in spite of the persuasions of St. Ange, who knew the enmity of the brutal Brit- 
ish fur-traders, he persisted in going, expressing his contempt for the English. At 
Cahokia he received invitation after invitation from one friend and another, and ac- 
cepted all. Drinking himself drunk, he went out of the village into the woods, sing- 
ing magic songs. An English fur-trader, seeing him, promptly gave a miserable 



COWARDLY MURDER OF PONTIAC. 149 

Kaskaskia Indian a barrel of liquor to kill liini, and promised him something more. 
The wretch followed Pontiac, crept up behind him, and clove his head with his 
hatchet. 

The few followers of the murdered chieftain who would have avenged his death 
were driven out of the village. But the news of the death of the great war-chief 
spread quicklv and far; and his Ottawas and their confederate tribes, gathering 
together, came down upon the treacherous and cowardly Illinois, exterminated all 
but thirty families of them, and a few years afterward cut off this wretched rem- 
nant, utterly extinguishing the tribe by the adoption of the few children who alone 
were saved alive. 

St. Ange caused the body of the slain warrior to be brought across the Mississippi 
and buried. No man knows the place of his grave, but it is somewhere beneath the 
multitudinous tread of the busy crowds that throng the city of St. Louis. Sleeping 
there, beneath the lofty, crowded houses, he is the symbol and the prophecy of his 
race, and of its doom. 

Besides Pontiac himself, there are perhaps none of the actors in this storj^ whom 
we need follow further, unless it be the beautiful Ojibwa girl, Catharine, whose 
warning saved Detroit. She was, it is said, severely whipped by Pontiac himself. 
And there is a further tradition that she grew old, haggish, and drunken, as Indian 
Avomen do ; and that in a drunken fit she fell into a great kettle of boiling maple 
sap, and died miserably. 



CHAPTER VII. 



CABIN HOMES OF THE WILDERNESS. 



TKEATY BETWEEN THE BRITISH AND THE IROQUOIS. WASHINGTON'S INSTINCT FOR GOOD LAND. 

REGULATORS. BATTLE OF THE ALAMANCE. PIONEER CROSSING OF THE BLUE RIDGE. 

GENERAL PHINEAS LYMAN. THE CONNECTICUT COLONY IN MISSISSIPPI. AN ADVENTUROUS 

JOURNEY. AMONG THE CREEKS. DANIEL BOONE. JAMES HARROD. SIMON KENTON. 

LORD CHATHAM'S APPEAL. 

IN the year 1768, there was assembled at Fort Stanwix, in central New York, on 
the site of the present city of Rome, a council of the confederated Six Nations, 
or Iroquois, under the supervision and influence of Sir William Johnson, the British 
a2:ent for Indian affairs. It was much desired by sundry parties interested, that a 
title to an immense region of country \ying west of the mountains should, in some 
way or other, be secured from the Indians; and as these bold adventurers, the Iro- 
quois, — the wild rovers who laid under contribution their red brethren from the sea- 
board coasts of Maine upon the east, to the Father of Waters upon the west, exact- 
ing tribute equally from the Shawnees and Illinois, the Delaw^ares and Huron s — 
claimed large districts of country besides those which they themselves occupied, the 
airents of the British o-overnment thouoht it well to secure this title from them. 
They claimed, in virtue of their conquests, the whole region of country lying upon 
the south of the Ohio, running from that river upon the north through the whole 
extent of the country traversed by the Cumberland and Tennessee rivers. At this 
council, assembled about the 1st of November, 1768, Sir William Johnson, who had 
arranged the details beforehand, with a skill worthy of a modern politician, and by 
means of a series of gifts and presents to these hardy warriors, made the purchase, 
securing, in the first place, that Avhole region lying between the mouth of the Cher- 
okee, or Tennessee, River upon the westward, and the Kanawha at the east, for the 
crown of Great Britain ; and the lands from the Kanawha on the west to Mononga- 
hela on the east, for such traders as had been defrauded or injured during the war 

150 



WASHINGTON AS A PIONEER. 151 

of Pontiac. Let it be remembered that these Indians had, in truth, no more right 
and title to that land than we; and jet, by the action of its agents and officers, the 
British government executed this agreement, and by virtue of it, henceforth claimed 
all the country lying west of the Monongahela and south of the Ohio river. 

Under this treaty it was determined to make a grant of 200,000 acres to such 
officers and soldiers as had been engaged in the old French war, and to locate it just 
west of the Kanawha River, within the limits of the present State of Kentucky. 

And now — casting a rapid glance to another portion of our present vast territory — 
about the year 1770 we shall find coasting along the borders of Lake Superior upon 
the northward, ascertaining particulars and gaining information regarding the copper 
mines of that district, passing thence westward across the Mississippi River, and 
making a long and perilous journey into the country of the Dacotah or Sioux Li- 
dians, a bold and hardy captain from Connecticut, one Jonathan Carver. He called 
the attention of the British government and of the eastern colonists to the bound- 
less mineral and agricultural wealth within the district he had traversed, and bore the 
first intelligence of a credible and authentic character in regard to the Oregon or Co- 
lumbia River, and the countrv h'ing west of the Rocky Mountains. 

We shall find at the same time floating down the Beautiful River of the French 

the Ohio — a person to whom we have had occasion before to allude, the young ath- 
letic Virginian, George Washington; having in common with his brethren that 
American peculiarity, a powerful instinct for good land, a strong desire after real 
estate. Pursuing his meandering course in flat-boat or canoe, down the peaceful 
current of this river came this young Virginian, to locate his oAvn right as an officer 
in the French war, and also the claims of his brother soldiers and officers. His cyo 
having been early disciplined in his pursuits as a surveyor, and long accustomed to 
wander as forester and woodsman, he became familiar with all forms and phases of 
nature, a lover of beautiful scenery, and at the same time skilled in estimating and 
selecting good lands. He reveled in the panorama of magnificence spread out be- 
fore him. Here a stately deer was browsing upon the river bluff, and yonder an- 
other of his brethren stepped proudly down to slake his thirst in the peaceful stream. 
Here herds of buffalo were quietly wandering and grazing at will. The woods were 
crowded with flocks of wild turkeys; and all around him, in the beautiful summer 
season of the year, everything wore the brightest smile of benignity and beauty; 
heart and eye of our Virginian were ravished with delight. He formed the purpose 
of becoming a settler of the West, and but for the near outbreak of the American 



152 BATTLE OF THE ALAMANCE. 

Revolution, no doubt George Washington would have been a great pioneer of west- 
ern civilization, leaving his impress upon its grateful and virgin soil as durably as 
he has now left it upon our whole continent. 

Just before this period, a long series of outrageous and oppressive proceedings by 
the government officers of North Carolina, supported and encouraged by the royal 
governor himself, the rigid, overbearing and haughty Tryon, had thoroughl}^ alien- 
ated the affections of that colony from the English government. The sheriffs, as 
collectors, had levied enormous illegal taxes for their own private gain ; and the 
courts were courts of anything but justice. In their well-founded indignation, all 
the inland inhabitants formed themselves into bodies of so-called "Regulators," and 
while they administered a rude but honest justice among themselves, broke up and 
prohibited the sitting of the oppressive regular courts. These hardy men violently 
and successfully opposed the stamp act; and Governor Tryon, irritated by their con- 
tinued resistance to the tyranny of himself and his creatures, issuing from the execu- 
tive palace, headed a levy of the militia, and on the river Alamance, gave battle to 
the forces of the Regulators, in the year 1771. The brave countrymen, like their 
fellows at Bunker Hill, fought until their powder was expended, and then sullenly 
fled, having lost nine of their number, and killed just thrice as many of their foes. 

Expecting no justice while under the sway of the British lion, and exasperated be- 
yond all patience at these oppressions, the official injustice and social indignities they 
had vainly opposed, these bold and determined men resolved to flee into the wilder- 
ness — from ancient times the refuge of the poor and oppressed. Deserting their 
homes and hearthstones by which their children had been nursed, and where their 
fondest memories were garnered, with their teams, their flocks, and their little ones, 
they toiled up the steep ascents of the Blue Ridge and passed westward until they 
found the broad, alluvial lands of the river Watauga. Here, entering into a league 
with the chief men of the Cherokee nation, which held possession of this country, 
they made just and legitimate purchase of a sufficient extent of territory to answer 
their purpose of agricultural pursuits. And here, under the leadership of Col. James 
Robertson, one of the noblest pioneers our history speaks of, they established the 
first Republic ever founded upon the soil of America — despising and eschewing the 
authority of England, from which they had only received wrong, outrage, betrayal, 
and their compatriots' death. Surrounded by the grandeur of the great primitive 
forms of nature, the towering mountain lifting its great peak to the clouds, the plains 
all beautiful with the white of the abounding strawberry blossom, or the rich red of 



EJfGLAND's UNGRATEFUL TREATMENT OF GEN. LYMAN. 153 

its fruit; the rliododendron, Avitli its bright and genial hues, and the azalea, making 
all the forests crimson with a touch of fire— these hardy men planted themselves, and 
began to carry their explorations and surveys far to the westward. This was the 
germ and birth-place of the present State of Tennessee. 

Still further to the southwest we find strange events taking place upon the banks 
of the Mississippi Kiver, in the neighborhood of the present city of Natchez, where 
stood the old French Fort Rosalie, named after the fair dame of the o-reat French 
nobleman. Count Pontchartrain. During the old French war, in 1755-56, General 
Phineas Lyman, of Durham, in Connecticut, had buckled on the harness of war, and 
had approved himself a valiant and noble leader, doing faithful service in behalf of 
the colonies until the conclusion of the war. His valor and constancy, his rare 
power of combination, masterful accuracy in details, and able generalship, had o-ained 
him a place so high in the confidence of his countrymen, that the reputation which he 
won so well in his office of major-general and commander-in-chief of the Connecticut 
forces, and as commander of the expedition to Havana, in 1762, was second to that 
of no man in America. Men high in place in England had also repeatedly invited 
the able, eminent and accomplished provincial soldier to visit the mother country. 
Organizing an association under the name of the "Military Adventurers," of the sol- 
diers and officers of the war just ended, he accordingly proceeded to England as its 
agent, to solicit for it a grant of the desert lands lying on the Yazoo and Mississippi 
Rivers. For these associates had heard marvelous stories of the richness of the land 
in the Southwest, and desired to settle upon so fair a domain; judging that they had 
a right to claim the grant in return for their services to the British government. 
Gen. Lyman arrived in England; but instead of meeting a kind reception and a cor- 
dial acknowledgment of his services, was treated with coldness and contempt, and 
wnth mean and cruel ingratitude. He was deluded with promise after promise, and 
delay after delay, even for years; until the discovery of this long series of cheatings 
came upon him with such crushing violence that he fell into absolute listless despon- 
dency. The noble soldier, whose spirit had passed undismayed through perils of sea 
and land, Indian ambuscade and pitched battle, unable to bear the thought of return- 
ing to his deluded friends, sadly determined to bear his fancied ignominy as best he 
might, in distant Enoland, and to lav his dishonored bones there. 

Thus the unhappy General Lyman wasted eleven years of the prime of life, absent 
from that home which he had left in the flush of present success, and with still more 
radiant hopes beaming for the future — a home made sacred and beautiful and happj^ 



154 HARDSHIPS AND TRIALS OF THE PIONEERS. 

by a lovely wife, hy beloved, intelligent, refined and highly educated children. And 
when the faithful and patient wife could endure the long heart-break no more, she 
sent her eldest-born to England to bring back his father. 

The unhappy father, his paternal affection awakened at the sight of his boy, con- 
sented to return ; and the more readily, as the British government had, with a liber- 
ality too long delayed, at last made the desired grant at the intended spot, within the 
limits of the present State of Mississippi, and in what was then called western Flor- 
ida. To General Lyman himself was given a special grant of lands broad enough 
for future wealth ; and a promise — never fulfilled — of a pension of £200 a year. But 
many of the grantees were now hoary old men, and all were aged beyond the period 
of life when men remove into wildernesses to undertake the rude, exhausting labors 
of founding new communities. But General Lyman came home with his grant. 
His oldest son, a youth of brilliant promise, had completed his studies, received and 
held a commission in the army, and given it up for the practice of the law; had felt 
to the full the effects of all these high hopes so long deferred, Avhich prevented him 
from earnest devotion to his profession. The long Aveary suspense and doubt hang- 
ing over his own prospects had destroyed health of body and mind together, and 
when the wretched father met him, he had sunk from broken-heartedness into lu- 
nacy. But he carried the hapless youth away, hoping that new atmospheres and new 
scenes might give him back his health ; and with a few friends proceeded to West 
Florida, and located his grant. Scarcely had he done so when his son died. In the 
next year, 1775, the desolate father followed him to the grave. In 1776, Mrs. Ly- 
man came to this fatal country with her only brother and all her children, except one 
son. She died in a few months, and the next summer her brother died. 

This expedition, w^hich sailed from Middletown, Ct., May 1st, 1776, passed through 
a battle with misfortune so long, so varied, and so terrible, that it deserves some- 
thing more than a mere reference. Let us briefly trace the affecting story. Reach- 
ing New Orleans, August 1st, 1776, they began to ascend the Mississippi in open 
boats. Day after day passed, and they were yet dragging their heavily-laden craft 
against the furious current, through sickly airs, and under the exhausting southern 
sun. The malaria of the swamps did its fearful work, and one and another of the 
hardy emigrants sickened and died; while the fated survivors, with diminished 
strength, more slowl}^ dragged the heavy boat up stream. Boat after boat was left 
— the crew too feeble to draw it — fastened to the willows or anchored in the current; 
among them that of Captain Matthew Phelps. Reaching Natchez, the minister of 



HARDSHIPS AND TRIALS OF THE TIONEERS. 155 

the piirty, Mr. Smith, who in genuine Puritan style had accompanied them from 
Connecticut, fell a victim to the fever. The remainder of the party at last reached 
the site of the intended settlement, where General Lyman had, before his death, 
made some small improvements ; and there Madam Lyman followed her hapless hus- 
band to another world. 

Captain Phelps, who was left below on the river, .still remained there, his family so 
reduced by fever-and-ague that they could only at intervals wait on each other. 
His daughter Abigail soon died, and the mourning father buried her on the bank, 
digging her grave w^ith his own hands. This was in the early part of September, 
1776. On the IGth, an infant son, born at sea on the voyage out, died, and the 
father again dug a grave and buried his boy by the side of his daughter. A com- 
panion in misery, named Flowers, who had lost all his family, now overtook Phelps, 
and, joining forces, they put the property of both in the larger boat, and Morn down 
almost to skeletons, began again the ascent of the river. They were still toiling up- 
ward on the 12th of October, when, a little above Natchez, Mrs. Phelps died, at the 
house of a hospitable planter named Alston, who gave her a decent burial. Moving 
onward again. Captain Phelps reached the mouth of the Big Black, on which river 
his lands lay, on the 24th of November; having been almost a hundred days in mak- 
ing the trip from New Orleans, which now occupies a few hours. Weakened by dis- 
ease beyond the power of labor, Phelps here hired a man and boy to help him up the 
river, and himself, with the boy, labored at the tow-line, leaving the man on board 
to steer. The boat glided into an eddy, or "suck;" and her stern catching under a 
willow, the steersman w^as thrown out, but being a sturdy swimmer, escaped to the 
shore. Phelps' two remaining children, a boy of five and a girl of ten years of age, 
worn down by their long and clinging sickness, were sitting listlessly upon the bed 
where they had suffered so much. The father, from whose arms one after another 
of his beloved had been wrested so terribly, in a transport of agony, seeing the boat 
circling in the whirlpool, hastily tied the line to a tree, and not being able to swim, 
crept out on the willow that held down the boat, hoping to rescue the children and 
carry them ashore. He reached the boat, and his added weight bore down the 
treacherous willow, and the stern under it. But begging the sister to sit still whde 
he saved her brother, the frightened man called his boy ; the little fellow was wad- 
ing through the water in the boat toward his father, when a high wave struck the 
bow ; it was carried instantly under, and the two children were swept out of his very 
arms into the devouring whirl of the river. Standing helplessly upon the dangerous 



156 THE CONNECTICUT COLONY IN MISSISSIPPI. 

tree, the miserable man saw them rise once, clasped in each other's arms, and then 
they disappeared forever beneath the boiling, muddy water; and bereft of wife, 
daughter, and of all his little ones — every tie to earth thus rudely severed, and, 
though it is scarcely worth the naming in addition, his little propert}' swept into the 
gulf — the desolate man escaped to the shore and ascended slowly to the place of his 
proposed settlement. A brutal squatter had usurped his claim, and under protection 
of the custom of the land, defied him. Thus left alone and penniless, he turned his 
face again to his distant native State ; and there, it is pleasant to know, after so 
many bitter sorrows, he passed the remainder of his dajs in peace and comfort ; and 
saw another wife, and other children, within a happy home. He often told the stoiy 
of his sufferings to friend or neighbor, narrating one disaster after another with the 
steady resignation of a Christian — all but one terrible sight. He could not speak of 
the moment when the flood swallowed down his two youngest before his eyes. 

The survivors of this sturdy band of Connecticut farmers, after struggling through 
so many obstacles, became thrifty and successful planters in the country round 
Natchez, with handsome dwellings, large estates, and scores of slaves. 

But time passed on, and the American Revolution broke out. All these Con- 
necticut people were ardent loyalists. The contagion of independence had not been 
carried so far as their distant dwellings. An agent of the American Congress, Oliver 
Pollock, had descended from Pittsburgh to New Orleans, then in the possession of 
the Spaniards, and made arrangements with the Spanish authorities to supply the 
settlements upon the Kentucky, Cumberland and Tennessee, with annnunition to carry 
on the war. And a little after, in 1779, there descended the river one John "Willing, 
a citizen of Philadelphia, with an American commission as colonel. He was plausible 
of speech and of winning address ; he visited these loyal settlers in the neighborhood 
of Natchez and in other parts of Mississippi, gathered them together, made them 
many orations, won their confidence, and bound them by oath to strict neutrality. 
They were unwilling to renounce allegiance to the British crown, but promised not 
to interfere in the struggle then going on. "Willing then, ascending the river with a 
small force, seized by stratagem a British war vessel Ij'ing there, carried her to New 
Orleans, sold her to the Spanish authorities, and* with the proceeds spent his time 
with his companions in riotous living and debauchery, instead of applying the money 
to the purpose f or Avhich it was intended — the purchase of arms. Having wasted the 
whole, he re-ascended the river, ravaged and pillaged the estates in the neighborhood 
of Baton Rouge, then in possession of the English, and then continued up the Mis- 



BEGINNING OF AN ADVENTUROUS JOURNEY. 157 

sissippi to do the same with the settlements of Natchez. Our Connecticut settlers in 
that region, and their neighbors, valorous men, hearing of the conduct of the des- 
perado, and all faith in him, and unfortunately in the American cause, thus de- 
stroyed, collected themselves, armed and equipped, to punish him, or at least to pre- 
vent his piratical designs. He reached the neighborhood of the spot where they 
were fortified, crossed to the other side of the river, and then bv means of his 
artillery, treacherously opened fire upon them under cover of a flag of truce. This 
they returned with such hearty good will that some of his men Avere killed and some 
taken prisoners. He and the remainder of them returned to New Orleans, and from 
there he escaped into the country on the banks of the Alabama Eiver. The conduct 
of this desperado shook all confidence and faith, on the part of the settlers, in the 
integrity and character of the American struggle for independence; and considerincr 
themselves justly absolved from their oath of neutrality, they resolved to remain 
loyal to the crown of England. 

About this time France gave evidence of leaning to the American cause of Inde- 
pendence; whereupon the English government, in anger, declared war against 
France. Spain, also, which had been the firm ally of France, gave favorable consid- 
eration to the designs of the Revolutionists; and England, including her within the 
ban, declared war against Spain. The Spanish government decided to attack the 
British in Louisiana; and Don Galvez, Governor of New Orleans, ascended the river, 
took all the British posts as far as Natchez, and then returned to capture Mobile and 
Pensacola. The Loyalists, including Col. Philip Austin, John Austin, Col. Hut- 
chins, Mr. Lyman, Dr. Dwight, and various other of the Connecticut emigrants be- 
fore named, now large holders of real estate, were unwilling to submit to the author- 
ity of Spain. Arming themselves, they attacked the weak garrison left in Fort 
Panmure, formerly Fort Rosalie, at Natchez, and succeeded, by stratagem and other 
means, in dispossessing the Spanish. They heard, furthermore, that a large British 
fleet was coming to chastise the Spanish upon the Gulf; but, sorrowful to tell, just 
after their success in ejecting the Spanish from the fort, they learned that these ac- 
counts of coming fleets were all deceptive. And now Don Galvez, having taken 
Mobile and Pensacola, invested with great honors and powers, was about to come 
and punish these disobedient British subjects of Spain. But they, well knowing the 
treacherous and cruel nature of the Spaniards, resolved, rather than await their com- 
ing and abide their revenge, to abandon their homes, and undertake the long and ad- 
venturous journey to the settlements in Georgia. Before them was a trackless wil- 




BIRDS OF THE MISSISSIPPI VALLEY. 



A FOUNTAIN OF LIFE IN A PAECHED AND THIRSTY LAND. 159 



derness, then lying between the Mississippi Eiver on tlie west and the Oo-eechee 
upon the east — a tract of country inhabited by wikl beasts and wikler savao-es. With 
the bloodhounds of Spain upon their track, more than one hundred of these people 
set out, mounted upon horses, with their wives and little ones, some of them children 
in arms, with their servants and movables upon pack-horses, and proceeded north- 
eastwardly, hoping to reach the prairie region of Mississippi. It was the month of 
May, 1781, and was an unusually dry spring. They gained the prairie country, and 
no water was to be found. Far in the distance, as the mariner at sea beholds what 
he supposes islands near the blue horizon, so rose upon the level prairie clumps of 
trees, and there they hoped for w^ater. Toward these they pressed, only to be disap- 
pointed. Thirty-six hours had passed, yet no drop of cooling liquid had touched 
their lips. A camp was formed. The women and children were deposited, and the 
men started out in parties to search for the precious li(juid. The whole da}' was 
passed; they returned, faint, weary and despairing, their tongues hanging out of their 
mouths, and fell upon the ground utterly dejected and broken-kearted. In tkis emer- 
gency, wken man's kardihood and courage had failed, instinct and energy stepped 
forward. Mrs. Dwigkt, wife of Dr. Dwigkt, sallied from tke camp, attended by 
several women and one or two men. Tkey reached a tract of ground at the foot of 
some hills, where, in a spongy spot she bade the men dig. The spades were 
stoutly handled; they came to moist earth, to trickling drops, and after a little wkile 
tkey staj^ed tkeir kands; for a pure and beautiful fountain of water gusked up. 
Tkank God! was tke universal exclamation. Tke news was borne back to tke camp, 
and all tke party, men, women and ckildren, and tkeir patient, suffering beasts, 
rusked wildl}' to tke fountain — a fountain of life in a parcked and tkirsty land. Dr. 
Dwigkt stationed guards about tke spring, to prevent an intemperate use of the pure 
element; and all through the livelong night men and women, and jaded horses, 
allowed to slake tkeir tkirst quietly and by slow degrees, drank and drank, witk a 
tkirst almost unquenckable. From this point they turned northwestward to a^•oid 
the Indians, the Chickasaws on tke one side, and tke Ckoctaws on tke other, who, 
it was feared, were in league with the Spanish. 

Their compass was lost, and they had no guide except the sun in heaven, which 
was often concealed by clouds, for now the weather became ramy and inclement. 
Ever and anon a prowling party of Indians, under shadow of night, crejjt into canq) 
and ran off horses, or plundered baggage. And worse than all, a loathsome disease 
infected the worn-out compan}-. Having wandered northward, almost to the Ten- 



160 A FRIEND IN NEED. 

nessee River, they turned about and marched nearly straight south again to near the 
present site of Aberdeen, Mississippi, where they crossed the Tombigbee on rafts of 
logs. Thence they struggled through the wilderness to the Black Warrior Eiver, 
which they crossed at Tuscaloosa Falls ; and thence, afraid to follow any trail for fear 
of enemies, they went wandering up and down in their helpless misery, until they 
found themselves in the mountainous regions of the upper part of Alabama. Then 
they directed their steps toward the Georgian settlements, hoping to reach them by 
way of the Cherokee nation. One day, to their terror — for a human form inspired 
them with nameless fears of Indian ambuscades and savage tortures — they saw three 
men advancing on the rude path which they were pursuing, to meet them. The 
strangers advanced, and were found to be an old trader among the Indians, and two 
Chickasaws with him. The rugged frontiersman, shocked at the wretched appear- 
ance of the forlorn and famine-stricken troop, gave them all his provisions, and his 
last gallon of tafia or trading-rum. He added to his kind gifts kind advice, admon- 
ishing them to avoid the Tennessee mountains, and the Cherokees, who were mostly 
whiggish in alliance and feeling, and rather to turn southward and venture them- 
selves among the Creeks, trusting to their loyalist attitude, and to the influence and 
well-known humanity of their chief, the celebrated Colonel Alexander McGillivray. 
This advice they followed; turned southward; once more crossed ranges of moun- 
tains for two hundred miles, often walking with feet bare, torn and bleeding; 
obliged to lead their laden horses along the perilous and pathless rocks. By and by 
they reached the Coosa River, in Autauga County, in central Alabama. Exhausted 
and feeble, the deep current and dangerous, obstructing rocks of the noble river 
proved obstacles which they had not strength to overcome, and they lay down upon 
the banks in listless despair, unable even to build a raft. They might all have 
perished in their discouragement, had it not been for the courage and resolution of 
the same Mrs. Dwio;ht wdio discovered the fountain that saved their lives. She de- 
clared that if there was even one man bold enough to go with her, she would at least 
try to cross the river and find a canoe and some better ford. Her husband and one 
other man, inspired by her brave spirit, swore she should not risk her life alone, and 
all three swam their horses across the stream; carried down by the current, and at 
least once plunged completely under the water, by leaping from a ledge. On the 
other side they found, a mile above, a large canoe stove in the rocks. They repaired 
it as well as they could, and leaving Mrs. Dwight with the horses, the two men took 
it down to their friends; and by the end of the next day they were all safely across. 



"IF YOU TEI.L THE TRUTH, MAKE THE PAPER TALK." 161 

Resuming their march, after proceeding about twenty miles they approached a 
Creek town, known as tlie Hickory Ground, at the present town of Wetumpka. 
Colonel McGillivray, the celebrated Creek ruler, had a residence there, but was ab- 
sent. Afraid to enter the village, the trembling Loyalists sent in three deputies to 
explain their condition and ask relief. The ambassadors rode into the Indian town, 
along the path, amongst squaws hoeing corn, and between cabins, and lazy warriors 
basking in the sun. But at the sight of strangers the fierce savages quickl}^ gath- 
ered about them in a dissatisfied and increasingly angry crowd, for they saw that the 
saddles were not Spanish, like those of their allies, but English, like those of their 
unscrupulous and bitter foes, the Georgians. The wretched deputies in vain set forth 
the truth, that they were Royalists, friends of King George and of the Creek nation; 
in vain explained whence and why they had come, and urged their hapless state, the 
misery of their company', and their frank and confiding application. The savao-es 
conversed and argued together; their tones grew ferocious, their eyes began to <deam 
with fury, and they handled their weapons. The unhappy men saw death before 
them ; they and their hapless friends w^ould end their desperate journey under the 
tomahawks and knives of these fierce Indians. 

A negro rode up, and Avith seeming authority demanded the cause of the excite- 
ment. It was Paro, body-servant to Col. McGillivray, this moment returned from a 
long journey. The Indians answered that these were Georgians whom they proposed 
to kill. But the deputies quickly told him their sad and truthful stor}-, and he be- 
lieved it, and tried to convince the warriors. But though he added violent re- 
proaches to persuasions and arguments, they simply answered that all the company 
must die. An ignorant but fair-minded warrior, now bethinking himself of the 
strange custom — which he took it for granted was universal among the whites — of 
putting talk on paper, all at once called out — for he would be just and apjDeal to the 
records — "If you tell the truth make the paper talk." The quick-witted negro took 
a hint from their demand, and asked them for a journal of their trij). They kept 
none. Then had they any paper with writing on it? They searched in terror. At 
last, one of them found an old letter in his pocket. Paro told him what to do, and 
how ; and accordingly he read as if from the letter, in a slow and solemn manner — 
it may be believed he would not lack earnestness — a full and detailed account of their 
journey, and of its causes, Paro interpreting with much spirit and gestures. As the 
reader proceeded, the wild faces of his audience softened and lighted up, and putting 

aside their weapons, they all came up to the deputies at the end of the account, 
11 



162 



EARLY LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. 



shook hands all round, welcomed them to the town, and presently bringing in the 
whole company, furnished them good lodging and bounteous entertainment. 

After abundant rest and refreshment the party proceeded eastward, separating 
into two divisions. One reached Savannah, and the other was taken by the Whigs, 
though soon released. During the whole of this terrible journey of one hundred and 
forty-nine days from Natchez, not one of the party lost his life. 

The fatigues and dangers of the wa}', however, had undermined the health of 
some of the travelers ; and two daughters of Gen. Lyman died after reaching Sa- 
vannah. Three of their brothers were also members of the expedition; of whom, 
when the British left Georgia, one went to Nova Scotia, one to New York, and one 
to New Providence on the island of Nassua. It is said that all of these sons died of 

broken hearts; and as Dr Dwight observed in 
his account of General Lyman's misfortunes, 
this may well be termed "The Unhappy Fam- 
il}';" so long and uninterrupted was the series 
of crushing misfortunes which bore them, one 
after another, into obscure graves. 

In western Pennsylvania had settled, in the 
early part of the century, a stout Englishman and 
his wife, whose lands had increased, and whose 
children had multiplied around his board. To 
him was born, in 1735, his son, Daniel Boone. 
The boy, a hunter by birth and nature, early be- 
DANii.L BOONE. cauic a daring and skillful woodsman, strong, 

fleet, active, and unrivaled in the use of the rifle. He was but eighteen when his 
father removed to the upper country on the Yadkin, among the mountains in the 
west of North Carolina; rejoicing in the wild and noble scenery, the primeval forest, 
the richness of the viririn soil and the abounding game. Here Boone married while 
yet young, and lived for some time, hunting and farming; loving and beloved by 
wife and children; but jxt, essentially a wild and solitary man, spending his happiest 
hours alone in the woods, hunting sometimes, and often enjoying with a strange de- 
light for a man so unlettered, the numberless beauties of the mountain and river 
landscapes. 

• In the spring of 1769 he had already become unsettled at the approach of other 
men; for settlers were planting themselves along the streams, other hunters were 




BOONE SETS HIS FACE TOWARDS THE UNKNOWN WEST. 



163 



wandering in the woods ; so he meditated an expedition into the unknown forest 
world beyond the mountains. The handles of the plow were dropped in the furrow, 




DANIEL BOONE ALONE IN THK, WILDERNESS OK KENTUCKY. 

he hastened to the house, gathered his rifle and accoutrements, and started in com- 
pany with an old Indian trader and hunter named Findley, and four other men. They 



164 BOONE ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS OF KENTUCKY. 

began their journey on the 1st of May, 1769. A long, toilsome way they followed 
for six weeks. Crossing the Alleghany, the iron mountain, to the Cumberland Pass, 
they came out upon the headwaters of the Kanawha, and reached the goodly land. 
And truly, was it not an Eden? During a sojourn of six and a half months he feasted 
his eyes with the glories which he could enjoy there without end — herds of 
buffalo which no man could number, beautiful springs gushing from every hillside, 
wide, wealthy savannas, broad, tree-fringed rivers, noble forests, and all the 
ima<2:inable, solitaiy splendors of a rich land without human inhabitant. At the ex- 
piration of that time, Boone and William Stewart were taken captive by the Indians. 
The remainder of the company were frightened and hurried homeward. Boone and 
his companion remained in the hands of their captors, pretending quiet satisfaction, 
for a week; then easily escaped. Not a great while thereafter, William Stewart was 
shot by the Indians ; and Daniel Boone remained alone. The spring of the year 
came to this lone hunter, wandering here through all these wide and pleasant lands 
of forest and canebrake, which the Indians called "The Dark and Bloody Ground." 
Soon he was joined by his brother. Squire Boone, a man who shared many peculiari- 
ties with himself. For a year and a half longer these intrepid men remained in Ken- 
tucky, when Squire Boone returned to the settlements for a fresh supply of powder 
and lead, while Daniel continued alone in the wilderness, surrounded by savage foes 
seeking his trail ; yet unfearing and defiant. They went in groups; he without an 
associate, without even a dog to bear him compan3^ This strange safety was assured 
by a weed — a thistle — which grew in abundance throughout Kentuck}-, as if Prov- 
idence had spread a carpet of safety over the land for this solitary wanderer. On 
this humble herb the foot of the traveler leaves a peculiar impress, which remains 
long distinct; and the Indians, the lords of the soil, numerous and bold, trod care- 
lessly as they roved across their hereditary forests and prairies, and left patent to 
the trained eye of the white man the record of their number and their journey ; while 
he, avoiding the tell-tale herb, moved unknown and safe from one hunting ground to 
another. Thus, to his eyes, the ground was covered as if with a sheet of snow, bear- 
ing the impression of his enemies' trails ; while for their eyes no snow was on the 
ground, and his step left no trace. Thus wandered this one solitary Anglo-Saxon, 
glad at heart in the revelation of a new apocalypse of earthly beauty ; a man un- 
taught in books, but whose eyes often overflowed with happy, grateful tears, as he 
looked abroad upon the loveliness of nature, tasting the sweetest and profoundest 
things of God; reading with keen, clear eye, the open secret which nature reveals 



FIRST WHITE VICTIMS OX ''THE DARK AND BLOODY GROUND. 



165 



to all her children, and pursuing his way of peril to find a way of delight and 
joy. Having fully explored the country, he returned to the settlements. The 
tidings he brought were hailed with rapture by the people, but two years were 
allowed to pass before active measures were taken to possess the new land. At 
length Boone departed with his family, having first shaken hands with all his 
neighbors twice round; for, notwithstanding his silent ways, he was much beloved, 
because he never omitted an opportunity to do a kindly office to his brother man, 
at whatever inconvenience to himself. 

With wife and children , and with five other families, the journey was begun. At Pow- 
ell' sValley they were joined by forty well-armed men, and they advanced prosperously un- 
til the last mountain pass was 
before them, when, as they 
were ascending the rugged 
way, the rear of the party 
was attacked by Indians, 
and at the first fire Boone's 
oldest son, a promising youth 
of about twenty, fell — the 
second victim. Wm. Stew- 
art was the first; and they 
two w^ere the precious first- 
fruits of that fearful heca- 
tomb offered by those daunt- 
less and uncompromising 
men, the heroic forefathers 
of the Mississippi Valley. 

After the Indians were vanquished and driven from their coverts, a halt was 
called; and though the parley which ensued was attended only by men, the women 
and children were represented. The company determined to fall back upon Powell's 
Valley. Here they took up a position, put themselves in a defensive attitude, and 
month after month was passed in hunting or dreaming. Boone sat one day in the 
porch of his humble cabin, when down the valley came, all foaming in haste, an ex- 
press messenger from Lord Dunmore, the Governor of Virginia. This was in 1774. 
He was w^anted by Lord Dunmore to go Avestward four hundred miles to the falls of 
the Ohio River, at what is now Louisville, to bear tidings to a party of surveyors 




HOUSE IN MONTGOMERY COUNTY, MO , IN WHICH BOONE DIED. 



166 



COL. HENDERSON S AMBITION, 



and land-jobbers there, that the Indians were about to break into hostility; and then 
to convoy these men home again. One furtive glance at Mrs. Boone, who nodded 
assent, and his rifle was grasped, and Daniel, with a quiet and easy heart, started 
alone upon his wild and terrible journey. He reached the Falls, surprised the sur- 
veyors and speculators, and brought them back in safety, performing the journey of 
eight hundred miles in six weeks; and received not onl}^ the thanks of the men thus 
rescued from the clutches of the savages, but also of the lordly Governor of Virginia. 
It is not needful for me to detail the peculiar transactions of Logan's War, or that 
other war of Lord Dunmore, whose scene was the western border in 1774. The Indians, 
wronged and outraged by the conduct of the squatter settlers, who had grasped their 
land without remunerating them, had again risen; but after a brief campaign, were 
overcome, and forced to yield their lands to the whites ; and Lord Dunmore hastened 

back to uphold the tottering authority of the 
British Crown within the territories of Virginia. 
In 1774 the interior of Kentuck}^ was pen- 
etrated by another lone hunter, James Harrod. 
James Logan also had come. Daniel Boone 
was engaged as superintendent by one Colonel 
Henderson, who purposed to be a great land- 
jobber in the West; a man who taught him- 
self to read after attaining adult j^ears, and 
who began life in the province of Carolina. 
He was a man of strong sense and of much 
practical skill and enterprise. He ran for and obtained the lofty oiEce of constable, 
next became a magistrate, and afterward lived to reach the bench of the Supreme 
Court of North Carolina. He was not a cross-grained ascetic, not a studious scholar, 
but a free, bold, dashing, spirited fellow, who had made his money easily, and spent 
it yet more easily — generous and jovial to all, and expending in good living and spec- 
ulation all that he earned. At this time he w^as bankrupt; and casting his eye about 
the world to see from what quarter he could gather new supplies, bethought of west- 
ern lands. He would found an empire in the West. He made a treaty with the 
Cherokees for some land which did not belong to them ; but that was a small matter ; 
his title was as good as that of the British government to American lands. He 
bought the vast region of country lying between the Kanawha and Cherokee Elvers. 
Here he proposed to establish the Eepublic of Transylvania; and Boone was sent out 




THE OLD FORT AT BOOXESBOHOUGH. 



BIRTH AND EARLY LIFE OF SIMOX KENTON. 167 

as a pioneer to found the first settlement. In conjunction with the settlements of 
Harrod and Logan, he founded Boonesborough, and to this home brought Mrs. Boone 
and three other women. These Avere the pioneer women of the West; the women 
who, with their children, braved the perils of the way, the dangers of the forest, and 
the more fearful wiles of the bloodthirsty, insidious foes who lurked in every thicket 
and ambuscaded eveiy ravine. 

As the war of the Eevolution broke out in the Eastern colonies, the ministry of 
pjugland contrived a grand coup cVetat-to arm the Indian savages against the west- 
ern settlements; that, having destroyed these, they might sweep eastward over the 
mountains. The colonists thus attacked in front and rear, it was imaoined must 
quickly succumb; and in truth, had it not been for these infant settlements in the 
land of the canebrake — these little forts of Boonesborough, Harrodsburg and Lo- 
gansfort — which stood, a slender but impregnable breakwater against the wild, tem- 
pestuous rush of the forest tribes of the Northwest — there is reason for believing 
that the onset of those fierce warriors might have turned the wavering balance of the 
war, and given the victory in the bitter struggle of the Eevolution to the British. 

But there was another man, less known than Daniel Boone, if possible, still more 
adventurous, and certainly more closely characteristic of the men and times of which 
I am speaking. Let us follow his story and see what were the deeds and dangers of 
one whom we may well call the ideal man — the representative of Revolutionary Ken- 
tucky. I mean General Simon Kenton, the refugee, hunter, spy, horse-stealer, 
Indian-fighter, soldier and officer; and withal the perfect hero, true friend and brave 
protector of the scattered, imperiled outposts of civilization that scantily dotted 
the blood-stained forests of Kentucky. 

Simon Kenton was born in Fauquier County, Virginia, in 1755. He was of the 
wild and insubordinate, but cool, adventurous and daring Scotch-Irish blood — 
his mother Scotch and his father Irish. The parents were so poor that the boy's 
education, to his lasting disadvantage in life, was quite neglected. lu those wild 
days, and in the hardy, healthy life of the mountains, marriages were early made. 
Kenton was only about sixteen when he was in love, and lost his sweetheart too, 
by the success of a preferred rival, his own most intimate friend, one Yeach, who 
was, for all that appears, as young as he. Desperate with disappointment, he reck- 
lessly, as the old song says, "came to the wedding without any bidding," and finding 
the happy couple among their friends, seated on a bed, he seems to have quite lost 
his wits, and crazily and rudely thrust himself between them. Upon this, Yeach and 



168 



KENTOX PUNISHES HIS RIVAL AND "TAKES TO THE AVOODS. 



his brothers pounced upon him, gave him a sound thrashing and turned him out of 
the house. But meeting Veach alone in the woods soon afterward, Kenton intimat- 
ing that he was still dissatisfied, they had a long and severe pitched battle, which 
ended in Kenton's thoroughly squaring accounts by beating his adversary to helpless- 
ness and leaving him for dead. Frightened at his work, fearing the revenge of 
friends and the rude penalties of border law, his friend and his love both lost, a sud- 
den mighty sense of loneliness and hate for civilized life came upon him, and he fled 
to the mountains and the woods. Journeying by night and hiding by day, he pushed 
westward, and in April, 1771, reached Cheat River; worked for hire until he earned 
a good rifle; went to Fort Pitt; engaged himself to hunt for the garrison; and 
formed a strong friendship with that Simon Girty who stands, amidst the blood and 

fire of the fearful Indian wars 



of those times, a figure infernal 
with murder and treason, a ren- 
egade among the savages, and 
yet — as if to prove that the worst 
men are not all bad — more than 
once showing himself an em- 
inentlv faithful and unflinchinar 
protector of the very few for 
whom he felt gratitude or affec- 
tion. 

In the autumn of 1771, with 
two hunters named Yeasfer and 




THE GRAVE OF DANIEL BOONE, B^KANKFOUT, KV. 



Strader, the first of whom had excited his fancy with wonderful stories of the cane-lands 
of Kentucky, Kenton went down the Ohio to find them. Not succeeding, they returned 
to the woods of the great Kanawha and hunted for a year and a half. In the scoring of 
1773, the Indians, then becoming excited against the settlements, suddenly fired upon 
the three hunters while asleep in their camp, and killed Yeager; Strader and Kenton 
fled into the woods naked, as they lay in their shirts only, without arms or food, and 
after wandering six days, torn, bleeding and famished, so footsore that their last 
day's journey was but six miles, and so exhausted that on that same day they re- 
peatedly lay down to die, they met some hunters, obtained food and clothes, and re- 
turned to a settlement, Kenton went to work again, until he had obtained another 
rifle and hunter's outfit ; accompanied a party searching for Captain Bullitt, who had 



THREE YEARS OF FIGHTING AND INCESSANT PERIL. IGi) 

gone down the Ohio on a surveying expedition; guided it, when unsuccessful, back 
to Virginia; voUmteered into Dunmore's army in 1774, doing good service as a spy; 
and being discharged in the fall, hunted on the Big Sandy that winter; and the next 
summer made a second trip with a hunter named Williams, in search of the cane- 
lands of Kentucky, the glowing descriptions of his dead friend Yeager still dwelling 
in his mind. He discovered the long-wished-for cane by accident, not far from 
Maysville, in Mason County; cleared some land and planted an acre of corn upon 
one of the richest and loveliest spots in Kentucky, and that season ate the first corn 
raised by a white man in the "Dark and Blood}^ Ground." 

Kenton now passed two or three years in a series of hunting and fighting adven- 
tures, almost monotonous for daring, and the extremest and most incessant peril from 
the savages, who haunted every covert of the beloved land into which the whites 
were crowding with increased rapidity. In the spring of 1777, while he was residino- 
at Harrodsburg, he was sent out with a small party, and driven back by the Indians. 
Sending his men into the station, he went off alone to warn the garrison of Boones- 
borough ; delated entering until dark, to avoid the ambushes which the Indians fre- 
quently laid to shoot any persons coming or going; and on his entrance found the 
garrison bringing home the corpses of two men who had ignorantl}^ or carelessly vio- 
lated this prudent rule, and would have entered in daylight on the path he had fol- 
lowed. 

The Indians were now becoming more and more enraged at the occupation of the 
beautiful land of Kentucky, and made incessant and furious incursions into the settle- 
ments, closely besieging eveiy station. Boonesborough was thus assaulted three 
times. 

George Rogers Chirke, then a major, was in chief command of the settlements ; 
and with his concurrence six spies were appointed as a scouting force to watch the 
Indian frontier, two for each of the three chief stations, Boonesborough, Harrods- 
burg, and Logansfort. Of these Kenton was chosen from Boonesborough by Boone 
himself. These fearless and wily woodsmen for a whole year gave timely notice of 
every attack, going out by twos, each party in its week, except once. Kenton and 
two more were about going out of Boonesborough to hunt, when two men at work 
outside the fort were fired at by Indians, and fled unhurt toward the fort. One 
escaped, but a bold warrior tomahawked the other within seventy yards of the fort, 
and was scalping him when Kenton shot him, and with his two companions sallied 
out upon the others of the savage party. Boone himself also quickly came out with 



170 KENTON SAVES BOONE's LIFE. 

ten men to support the attack. Kenton, turning around, saw an Indian aiming at 
Boone's men, and taking a quick aim, shot him. Boone now discovered that his 
company was cut off from the fort by a large force of Indians, who had thrown them- 
selves between. There was but one resource, a prompt attack. "Right about!" he 
cried, "fire! charge!" and the little band sprang desperately at their red foes, whose 
first volley wounded seven of the fourteen, and breaking Boone's leg, brought him 
down. An Indian leaped upon him, hatchet in hand, but the keen-ej^ed Kenton, 
cool as ice, and quick as lightning, shot him through the heart, lifted the old leader 
in his arms, and carried him into the fort. The rest all got in, too, and after the 
gate was shut, Boone, a silent man, and much more chary of words and praises than 
a conqueror of crowns, sent for Kenton to give him his meed of praise for having 
saved his life and killed three Indians without getting hurt himself ; though 
the urgency of the case had prevented him from taking the scalp of any of them. 
This was the eulogy of the veteran Indian-fighter: "Well, Sam, you have behaved 
like a man to-day ; you indeed are a fine fellow." 

Kenton continued in this little force of spies until June of the next year, when he 
accompanied General Clarke's expedition against Kaskaskia and Vincennes; and at 
bis return joined Boone, who was about marching against an Indian town on Paint 
Creek, with nineteen men. He Avas in advance of the party, when he heard loud 
laughter in the woods, and had barely time to "tree" when a pony approached, car- 
rying two Indians, one facing the tail, and the other the head, and in high spirits. 
Instantly firing, Kenton's bullet killed one, and dangerously wounded the other. 
Springing forth to scalp them, about forty savages attacked him, and he commenced 
dodging about among the trees, feeling exceedingly hurried, and very unsafe until 
Boone's force came up, charged furiously and drove the enemy. But having learned 
that a larsre war partv had sfone out ajjainst his own station, Boone noAV turned short 
around and hastened homeward. Kenton and a fellow-woodsman named Montgom- 
ery, however, remained within rifle-shot of the Indian town two da^^s, stole each a 
good horse, and rode into Boonesborough the day after the Indians, who had been 
besieging it, had disappeared. 

A few weeks afterward they set off to steal more horses, taking one Clarke with 
them. They secured seven near Chillicothe, and got away; the Indians, however, 
being close behind. Reaching the Ohio, the three men tried in vain to drive their 
prizes across the river, roughened under a high wind. After delaying with the most 
astonishing recklessness for almost a da}' waiting for a calm, they decided once to 



SAVED FROM THE STAKE AND SOLD INTO SLAVERY. 171 

leave four of their beasts, and ride Lome on the other three. While tryin<^ to catch 
them again (having changed their mind), the Indians came up, shot ^Montgomery 
and took Kenton prisoner — even then, only in consequence of the extremest folly on 
his part in turning hack to get a shot at them. Clarke, alone, who fled as fast as 
possible, escaped. 

The Indians, themselves most thoroughgoing offenders in the same line, professed 
the most violent indignation at Kenton's offense, and reproached him fur a "hoss 
steal," beat him until they could not beat him an}^ longer, and then secured him for 
the night, flat on the ground, his legs stretched out and tied tight to two saplings, 
his arms lashed at length to a strong pole across his breast, and a stout thong, so 
tight as to barely permit him to breathe, strained back to a stake. He remained a 
captive eight months, ran the gauntlet eight times, was once nearly killed by a blow 
from an axe, and was three times tied to a stake to be burnt, being twice saved by the 
renegade Simon Girty, his early friend — who, in this, showed himself capable of the 
strongest attachment, and the most energetic and disinterested efforts for another — 
and once by Logan, the Mingo chief, who induced a Canadian trader to buy him. 
His owner finally took him to Detroit, where he remained, laboring for small wages, 
until the summer of 1779. 

In the flower of his youth — he was now twenty-four — an exceedingly handsome 
man, tall, straight and graceful, dignified and manly in deportment and speech, 
already famous for his bravery and skill in Indian warfare, with a soft and pleasant 
voice, and always a favorite with women, he was so fortunate as to excite a deep 
interest in the bosom of a Mrs. Harvev, wife of an Enijlish trader, Conceivinjj 
hopes of escape by her means, he intrusted her, after long doubt and with great 
circumspection, with his scheme. After a little hesitation she consented to aid him, 
and procured and concealed for him and the two fellow-prisoners with whom he pro- 
posed to escape, provisions and ammunition. During a grand drunken frolic of the 
Indians she also stole for them three good rifles, and on the 3d of June, 1779, they 
set out, and reached Louisville after thirty-three days of great hardship. 

After resting awhile, he Avent alone through the forest to visit Gen. Clarke, at 
Vincennes ; then returned to Harrodsburg ; and the next spring accompanied Clarke 
on his expedition against the Indian towns, commanding a company; and, being now 
the best woodsman and forest spy in the western country, he was the principal guide 
to the expedition. For two j^ears after the return of these troops, Kenton was occu- 
pied, as usual, in spying, hunting, or surveying; and in the autumn of 1782, after 



172 



"FELT LIKE A NEW MAN. 



eleven years of exile and remorse for supposed murder, he learned at the same time 
that his father was yet alive, and that Veach was not dead, but living and well. 
Hitherto, since his flight, he had always been known as Simon Butler; but now he 




gladly resumed his own name, and with the weight of shame, banishment and guilt 
removed from his mind, "felt like a new man." 



THE LAST INDIAN INCURSION INTO KENTUCKY. 173 

III the same autumn Kenton again connnandcd a company and acted as guide for 
the army on Chirke's second expedition against the Indian towns. After his return, he 
made a clearing on one of the nian}^ valuable tracts of land of which he had become 
the owner, and a year afterward, having raised a good crop of corn, returned home, 
visiting his friends, who had supposed him dead, and Mr. and Mrs. Veach, who re- 
ceived him without any remains of rancor for his former misdoings. He took his 
father with him on his return, but the old man died and was buried on the way. 

During the subsequent years Kenton, now at the head of a thriving frontier settle- 
ment, and a large land-owner, led a company in two more expeditions into the Indian 
country, and in 1793, with a party ambuscaded a troop of savages at their crossing- 
place on the Ohio, and, as they came up on their return, killed six and drove the 
rest awa3^ This was the last incursion they ever made into Kentucky. The whites 
were now too strong for them, and, discouraged and beaten, they confined themselves 
within the territories north of the Ohio. All this time — that is, from about 1784 
until the end of the century — Kenton was the foremost man on the Kentucky 
frontier. His landed property was large ; he even gave away at one time one thou- 
sand acres of land, upon wdiich was founded the town of Washington, and his noble 
and kindly character as well as his pre-eminent skill and valor as a woodsman and 
forest soldier, rendered him beloved and esteemed by all. 

After the expedition of Wayne had given a final blow to the power of the Indians, 
and the infant commonwealth of Kentucky w\as beginning to stride forward toward 
wealth and power with the long, rapid steps of the young giant States of the West, 
a sad series of reverses, disgraceful to the State for which he had fought so bravely, 
overtook Kenton. True as steel, and confiding and unsuspicious to a degree almost 
incredible and quite unknown except as the companion quality of such crystal honesty 
and child-like sincerity as his, and a rude and unlettered man withal, what should the 
heroic child of the forest know of the details of legal formulas? How could he, 
spending thirty years in incessant, exhausting perils and combats, exposed to a thou- 
sand deaths and to tortures unutterable, worse than death, in the long defense of the 
infant settlements of Kentucky— how could he dream that any one would rob him of 
the land he had bought wnth his blood— that the commonwealth he had done so nmch 
to establish w^ould suffer him to be beggared within her own limits by speculating 
knaves, cozening him out of his rightful property by the shrewd villainies of laws 
misapplied, and principles of justice perverted into instruments of oppression? But 
those who rushed so rapidly into Kentucky, after her borders were freed from the 



174 



REDUCED TO BEGGARY, KENTON LEAVES HIS UNGRATEFUL STATE. 



Indians, gave small heed to the men who had secured them peace. Kenton, like 
Boone and so many more of the pioneers of the forest, had ignorantly omitted one 
and another form, or entry, or item of description, in the proceedings taken to 
secure the lands selected at so much peril, and deserved by such inexpressible hard- 
ship and toils. One knave after another brought suit, founded on subsequent and 
more formal proceedings, for clearing vroodland or prairie. Kenton's estate was 




SIMON KENTON, FROM HIS CABIN HOME IN THE MOUNTAINS, VISITS THE CAPITAL. 

wrenched piece-meal from him ; his body was taken for debt, on covenants in the 
deeds to those very lands which he had substantially given away ; and he was im- 
prisoned for a year on the very spot where he had planted the first corn raised by a 
white man in the north of Kentucky, and had afterward built his frontier station. 

Reduced almost to beggary, he moved out of his ungrateful State in 1802, and set- 
tled at Urbana, Oh-o, now no longer young, and with the cheerless prospect of an old 



KKNTO>f FINDS "PEACE IX BELIEVING." 175 

age of penury among strangers. In 1805 he was chosen brigadier-general in the 
Ohio militia. Five A^ears afterward, being at a camp-meeting, under the influence of 
the rude but effective preaching of a strong, simple-hearted man of God, he became 
convicted of sin, and would fain range himself within the church of God. With a 
natural reluctance to expose his spiritual moods and exercises to the observation of 
others, he requested a minister present to accompanj^ him into the woods and pray 
with him, saying at the same time, "But don't make a noise about it." The plain 
and sincere clergyman knelt down with the old frontiersman and wrestled with God 
in prayer for him ; restraining his fervor, however, as required. The powerful ap- 
peals and sympathies of the wise, though homely preacher, and the influences of Him 
that answereth prayer, worked mightily within the honest, simple soul of the old 
man ; and in a whirlwind of fears and terrors, and mingled joy and pain, in the new 
feeling and perceptions that broke in upon his soul, he rose almost distracted and 
hastened back toward the crowded meeting, crying aloud in his trouble, and borne 
far beyond any regard to human criticism or human presence ; while the quaint old 
preacher, with that wonderful mingling of admonition and comicality so strangely 
characteristic of his class, and so eminently effective upon their peculiar people, hal- 
loed after him, retorting his late request — "Look here; don't make a noise about 
it." But Kenton found peace in believing, and became a sincere member of the 
Methodist church. 

In 1813, when Shelby and the Kentucky volunteers so bravely marched to the aid 
of Harrison against the banded tribes of the Northwest, Kenton accompanied the 
army, and was present as a privileged member of Gov. Shelby's family, at the battle 
of the Thames, his last fight. Returning home, he lived on in obscure poverty, in 
his hut in the woods, until 1820, when he removed to near the head of Mad River, in 
Logan County, v\'ithin sight of "Wapatomika, where, forty-two jears before, the 
Indians had tied him to the stake to burn him to death. 

In this distant spot he was still plagued with law-suits and executions in Kentucky; 
and in 1824, being seventy years old, in rags, and on a wretched horse, he journe^'ed 
to Frankfort to petition the State of Kentucky to release him from forfeiture for 
taxes on some poor tracts of mountain land still left to him. Rambling up and down 
the city, which had grown up where he had wandered in primeval woods, a spectacle 
to boys and a stranger to men, he was recognized b}^ an old friend or acquaintance, 
well clothed and hospitably entertained. And soon, when the news went out that 
General Simon Kenton was in the town, the fame that such noble and ancient men 



170 KENTON DIES IN OBSCURITY AND IN FULLNESS OF YEARS. 

get in their old age, as if they were dead, brought many to see the renowned hunter 
and warrior of two generations back. They carried the old man to the capitol, 
placed him in the speaker's chair, and introduced him to a great multitude, after our 
American fashion, which thus gratifies the curiosity of a crowd under the shallow 
pretense of doing homage to one. And the simple-hearted old man, believing in 
every word and every smile — and indeed, doubtless no small share of that inexpen- 
sive admiration was sincere enough as far as it went — was wondrously lifted up, and 
was afterward wont to say that that was the proudest day of his life. His petition 
was granted, however, at once. Judge Burnet and Governor Vance of Ohio, then 
in Congress, a little afterward also obtained for him a pension of twenty dollars a 
month, which preserved him for the rest of his life from extreme want. Living 
twelve years longer, loved and respected by all who knew him, quiet and obscure, 
Simon Kenton died in April, 1836 — in fullness of years, for he was eightj'-one. 

I have ventured upon all this detail, and have followed the life of this famous old 
pioneer thus far, because that life is such a full and vivid picture — such a complete 
epitome and type — of a life which was led by so many of those who dwelt in the cabin 
homes of the wilderness in that wild and perilous period. Nor do our contracted 
limits suffice for more than a swift and shadowy outline of the stor3\ The multiplied 
details of Kenton's life of hardships, enterprise, battle, peril and escape, would fill 
volumes. And the full history of all the startling dangers, the bold and wild ex- 
ploits, the desperate escapes, the fearful miseries of those times, would make a 
library of strangest adventure. 

The policy adopted by the British king and his ministers to call in the ruthless 
savages as auxiliaries in the war against the Americans, received a stern rebuke from 
some of the foremost men in England, and was not approved by the best people 
of the realm, as will be seen by what follows. 

In a debate which took place in the House of Lords, November, 1777, Lord Suf- 
folk, one of the king's secretaries, defended the employment of Indians in the war 
against the American colonists, contending "that besides its polici/ and vecessift/, 
the measure was also allowable on principle ; for that it was perfectly justifiable to 
use all the means that God and nature put into our hands." This called forth from 
that matchless orator, the Earl of Chatham, what w\as probably the greatest speech 
of his life. "I am astonished!" he exclaimed as he arose; "Shocked! to hear such 
principles confessed — to hear them avowed in this House, or in this country ; princi- 
ples equally unconstitutional, inhuman and unchristian ! My Lords, I did not intend 



LORD Chatham's appeal. I77 

to have encroached again upon jonr attention, but I cannot repress my indignation. 
I feel myself impelled by every duty. My Lords, we are called upon as members of 
the House, as men, as christian men, to protest against such notions standino- near 
the Throne, polluting the ear of majesty. 'That God and nature put into our hand !' 
I know not what ideas that Lord may entertain of God and nature, but I know that 
such abominable principles are equally abhorrent to religion and humanitv. What! 
to attribute the sacred sanction of God and nature to the massacres of the Indian 

scalping-knife — to the cannibal savage torturing, murdering, roastino- and eatinf»- 

literally, my Lords, eating the mangled victims of his barbarous battles! Such hor- 
rible notions shock every precept of religion, divine or natural, and every generous 
feeling of humanity. And, my Lords, they shock every sentiment of honor; they 
shock me as a lover of honorable war, and a detester of murderous barbarity. These 
abominable principles, and this more abominable avowal of them, demand the most 
decisive indignation." Turning to the Lord Bishops, he said: "I call upon that 
right reverend bench, those holy ministers of the Gospel, and pious pastors of our 
church — I conjure them to join in the holy work, and vindicate the religion of their 
God." Then turning to the Law Lords, he said: "I appeal to the Avisdom and the 
law of this learned bench to defend and support the justice of their countrv. I call 
upon the Bishops to interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawn ; upon the learned 
Judges to interpose the purity of their ermine, to save us from this pollution. I call 
upon the honor of 3^our Lordships, to reverence the dignity of your ancestors, and 
to maintain jonY own. I call upon the spirit and humanity of my country to vindi- 
cate the national character. I invoke the genius of the Constitution" * * * * 
to withhold the ministry from letting loose among us — from turning forth into our 
settlements, among our ancient connections, friends and relations, the merciless can- 
nibal thirsting for the blood of man, woman and child, to send forth the infidel sav- 
age — against whom? against your Protestant brethren; to lay waste their country, 
to desolate their dwellings, and extirpate their race and name with these horrible 
hell-hounds of savage war — hell-liouiuls I say of savage war. Spain armed herself 
with blood-hounds to extirpate the wretched natives of America, and we improve on 
the inhuman example, even of Spanish cruelty; we turn loose these savage hell- 
hounds against our brethren and countrymen in America of the same language, laws, 
liberties, and religion, endeared to us by ever}^ tie that should sanctify humanity. 

"My Lords, this awful subject, so important to our honor, our Constitution and 
our religion, demands the most solemn and effectual inquiry. And I again call upon 
]i 



178 LORD Chatham's appeal. 

your Lordships and the united powers of the State to examine it thoroughly and de- 
cisively, and to stamp upon it an indelible stigma of the public abhorrence. * * * 

"My Lords, I am old and weak, and at present unable to say more; but my feelings 
and indignation were too strong to have said less. I could not have slept this night 
in my bed nor reposed my head upon my pillow without giving this vent to my eter- 
nal abhorrence of such preposterous and enormous principles." 

About the same time, in the House of Commons, Edmund Burke delivered a 
sjDeech protesting in the same emphatic way against the use of the Indians by the 
government. It was not reported, but his friends declared it to be the most power- 
ful appeal he ever made. Colonel Barre, in the fervor of his excitement, declared 
that, if it could be written out, he Avould "nail it on everv church-door in the king- 
dom." Sir George Sairle said, "He who did not hear that speech, has failed to 
witness the greatest triumph of eloquence within my memory." Governor John- 
stone said on the floor of the House, "It was fortunate for the king's ministers 
(North and Germaine) that spectators had been excluded during that debate, for if 
any had been present, they would have excited the people to tear the noble Lords in 
pieces on their wa}^ home." 

Notwithstanding these earnest protests, and many others from people in and out 
of Parliament, Lord North's ministry pursued its inhuman course, and our English 
cousins must not be surprised if the recollection of the barbarities practiced in that 
border warfare w^ith the sanction of a Christian king and his advisers, w^as burnt into 
the souls of the sufferers and their descendants ; nor is it even yet, after more than a 
hundred 3^ears, quite laid to rest. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



GEORGE EOGERS CLARKE AND HIS COMPEERS. 



AN INDIAN ABDUCTION. A GALLANT DEFENSE. BIIITH AND CHARACTER OF CLARKE. DEL- 
EGATE TO THE VIRGINIA LEGISLATURE. LEADS A FORCE AGAINST KASKASKIA. CAPTURES 

KASKASKIA. HIS STATESMANSHIP. HIS TREATIES WITH THE INDIANS. EXPEDITION AGAINST 

VINCENNKS. CAPTURES THE TOWN. HIS DEATH. 

IN the year 1776 there were about one hundred fighting men in Kentucky. Of 
these from thirty to fifty were usually in garrison at Boonesborough, or absent 
on expeditions thence. 

Boonesborough was the first fort built in Kentucky, and was established by Daniel 
Boone in 1775. It stood in a small cleared space on the bank of the Kentucky River, 
and occupied a parallelogram about two hundred and sixty by one hundred and fifty 
feet, one angle resting on the river bank. Its rude, but sufficient fortifications con- 
sisted of two cabins on a side, with a gate between, one at each end, and at the cor- 
ners block-houses, which were merely houses built with larger logs than a common 
cabin, and more carefully and closely constructed for defense. These cabins and block- 
houses Avere connected by high, strong fences of large pickets or timbers driven 
close together into the ground. All the outer walls were loop-holed for niusketrj' ; 
and this wooden fort, that could not have resisted a six-pound field battery, was to 
the children of the forest an impregnable stronghold, proved by many a desperate 
assault urged on by the bitter sorrow and anger they felt at each successive extension 
of the white man's hold on their forests and savannas. 

One of the men employed on the work was killed a few daj^s after the foundations 
were laid. The fort was incessantly beleaguered for years, and sustained three furi- 
ous sieges by large bodies of Indians; the last, in September, 1778, under the com- 
mand of British officers. The settlement had grown so dense and spread so far by 
this time that the savages could no longer penetrate to the walls of the fort without 

leaving too many enemies in their rear. 

179 



180 



AN INDIAN ABDUCTION. 



The following incident well illustrates the dangers to which the inhabitants of these 
little fortresses were daily exposed. 

One i5ne summer afternoon, while the garrison was not dreaming of danger, some 
of the men lounging idly around the gate or under the shadow of the stockade, were 
looking upon three girls, two of them daughters of Col. Richard Calloway, the 
other of Daniel Boone; the oldest fourteen years of age, the youngest nine or ten. 
The girls were playing in a light canoe upon the placid bosom of the stream, danc- 
ing, and seemingly in danger of upsetting the light bark, but yet with practiced skill 
preserving its balance; their sweet and merry peals of laughter ringing far away 
through the silent air. By the movements of the girls the canoe was driven further 
and further from the southern bank, until they were two-thirds of the way across 

the stream; when suddenh% by an unseen yet 
irresistible impulse, it began to move directly 
toward the northern shore, while the girls, sur- 
prised and wondering, looked all around to see 
what might be the cause of the motion. Just 
as they were gaining the edge of the northern 
shore, the hand of a savage, and then his eye, 
fierce and glaring as that of a panther about to 
leap upon its prey, was seen within the shade of 
the bushes that fringed the stream, and as the 
boat Avas pulled within the same dark covert, 
they saw other fierce eyeballs gleaming there, 
and strong arms inclosed them. One shriek from 
the poor affrighted girls, and their mouths were 
closed, and they were carried off in the grasp of their Indian captors. That scream 
had been heard at the fort — the men had seen the motion of the boat, and quickly 
understood what had happened. No other canoes were in the neighborhood, and 
there was every reason to apprehend that other savages were still lurking in the 
bushes to pick off any men who might seek to pursue. How they finally succeeded 
in getting across, whether by swimming or by the rescue of their canoe, is not 
known. Those in the fort awaited the return of Boone, who was away on business. 
After several hours he returned; but as it was near nightfall, he waited until morn- 
ing, and by daylight set out in pursuit with seven men. They had made a march of 
but a few miles, when they reached a canebrake where the savages had entered, and 




#0 



GENERAL GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE. 



GALLANT DEFENSE OF HARROD's STATION. 181 

had taken such special pains to obliterate their traces that to follow the trail throuo-h 
the brake would consume time most critically precious, and might allow the Indians 
.to escape. 

In this emergency, Boone hit on a happy device to "circumvent" the savages, to 
use a favorite word in western parlance, by making a detour around the entire brake, 
so as to strike the trail on the other side, wherever it might be. The plan Avas suc- 
cessful, and after traveling thirty miles with incredible speed, they found a buffalo 
path where the trail was quite fresh. Hastening ten miles further, they came upon 
the savages lying down or preparing a meal, and little thinking of danger, supposing 
that they had distanced pursuit; but having the girls in close and Avatchful custody. 

The two parties saw each other at the same time ; but the whites, firing a volley, 
charged so furiously upon the Indians that they fled, leaving packs, ammunition, 
and weapons, except one empty shot-gun. The girls were uninjured, except by 
excessive fright and fatigue ; and their rescuers were so rejoiced at their recovery 
that, without pursuing the Indians further, they returned at once to the fort. 

In this same summer, one or two other feats were performed which merit our 
notice. Harrod's, Logan's and Boone's stations were this year attacked by Indians 
at the same time; large numbers of them besieging each fort, and innumerable 
parties prowling through the wilderness for the purpose of cutting oft* isolated 
settlers. Harrod's fort was attacked by a large body of Indians, who were deter- 
mined to starve the garrison out. Their corn-fields were destroyed. The body of 
savao'es attacking; them was some five or six hundred in number, while there were 
only about forty men inside the stockade. The woods for many miles were infested 
by the Indians, so that the crack of a white man's gun, if heard within them, Avould 
have secured his instant death. Nevertheless, a lad sixteen or seventeen years of 
age, named James Ray — several older hunters having tried in vain to supply the fort 
with provisions — volunteered his services. He was a married man, for they married 
early then ; a son-in-law of Col. McGary. Taking the only horse of his father-in-law, 
all the others, of forty, having been stolen or destroyed by the Indians — an old, 
worn-down beast — and leaving the stockade between midnight and daylight, taking 
his pathway in running brooks of water so as to leave no trace, thus the shrewd, bold 
boy pursued his way for many miles, till far beyond the savages; hunted the re- 
mainder of the day, slept a portion of the evening, and then came back as he had 
gone, his horse loaded with provisions. Thus for months did this gallant young 
Virginian maintain the fort by his single rifle. 



182 INDIAN ATTACK ON LOGAN STATION. 

One other instance. All the stations, as I have said, were attacked; and Logan's 
containing fifteen men, shared the fate of the others. Early in the morning, a small 
band of men were outside the gates, guarding a party of women while milking the 
cows. These were saluted by a sudden hail of bullets. Three of the men were 




INDIANS StTKPKISE LOGAN S STATION. 



killed; the women all succeeded in making their escape. The entire party rushed 
into the gate of the fort, and entered in safety ; but the bodies of the three slain 
men and one poor wounded fellow were still outside. The wounded man, Harrison 
by name, ran a few steps and fell, in sight of both attackers and defenders, and un* 
less rescued would be quickly scalped. The Indians refrained from firing upon him, 



DESPERATE EXPERIMENT TO RELIEVE LOGAN's STATION. 183 

hoping to lure others of his friends to his help. The cries of the wounded man for 
aid, the frantic grief of his wife, seemed to full upon deaf ears. The men said: 
"There are only twelve of us, and not one can be spared for less than a hundred red- 
skins." But his wife, with cries and prayers of heartbreaking intensity, solicited all 
in turn. Col. Logan, the commandant of the station, could not withstand the 
appeal, and said, "Boys, will none of you go with me?" John Martin rallied his 
courage, and said, "I am as ready to die now as I ever shall be; I will go." The 
gates were opened, and out they rushed. A storm of leaden hail greeted them. 
Martin found he was not as ready to die as he thought, and ran back. But out 
among the rifle balls rushed Logan ; bent over the wounded man ; raised him in his 
arms as if he were an infant; and while the bullets were flying all around him, and 
more than one lock of his hair was cut off as by scissors, succeeded in entering the 
gates again, and delivered the wounded Harrison into the arms of his rejoicing wife. 

Still the Indians maintained the siege. There were only twelve men left; their 
powder and ball were running low ; a fresh supply must be had, or all the horrors of 
Indian captivity would follow. None could be had nearer than the settlements on 
the Holston River, two hundred miles distant. There Avas scarcely a chance that any 
messenger could pass the Indians, or that if he could, the fort could hold out until 
his return. Rash and desperate as the woodsmen Avere, they all hesitated to make 
this fearful experiment. Col. Logan himself, with that reflective, deliberate bravery 
which carries the nobler sort of men, in time of need, so much further than the an- 
imal impulses of common hardihood, volunteered, and selecting two companions crept 
out at night, and the three men noiselessly passed the Indian lines. Avoiding the 
usual road, he struck into the forest, pushed at almost superhuman speed over track- 
less mountain and valley, reached Holston, secured the ammunition, put it into the 
hands of his tAvo companions, and himself preceding them, that his little garrison 
might the sooner receive the good news and strengthen their hearts, returned again, 
arriving ten days after his departure ; making this trip of four hundred miles 
through a rugged wilderness at the rate of forty miles a day, on foot, and with scarce 
aught to live upon. The ammunition was successfully brought in, and the Indians 
were driven off. 

About the same time, or just before it, there came to Kentucky a young man. 
Born in 1752, when he entered Kentucky in 1775 he was twenty-three years of age — 
a fine soldier-like fellow who had been in Lord Dunmore's war, who began life as 
did many of the young men in Virginia and thereabouts, as a surveyor, this being 



184 



EARLY LIFE OF GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE. 



the surest highway to fortune and distinction. He had been in Logan's war as a 
vohmteer on the personal staff of Lord Dunmore, and came to Kentucky to see what 
manner of persons were there, and if the country was fit to settle in. Of stalwart 
bearing, noble person, winning manners, yet commanding, this man's courage and 
conduct through all the subsequent struggles of the pioneers of the West well entitled 
him to the confidence he soon inspired. His name was George Rogers Clarke, a man, 
singularly enough, as yet without a biography; and yet, excepting Washington, 
I'ranklin, and a few others, there is not a man in the annals of our country who so 
well deserves the tribute of the biographer, the panegyric of the historian, and the 




EARLY HOME OF GEORGE ROGERS CLAPaCE. 



applause of his countrymen. He came to Kentucky, examined the condition of the 
province, returned to Virginia in the fall, and came back to KentuckjMU early spring 
for the purpose of making it his home and taking part with his brothers of the 
frontier in their arduous defense of their lands and lives. He spent much of his 
time alone, hunting or wandering through the woods ; visiting all the stations ; and 
easily making himself acquainted with the pioneers, from the smallest children up. 
At length, having acquainted himself with all the features of their life and needs, he 
recommended their calling a convention for the purpose of acquiring for themselves 
some political rights and position. He was appointed by this convention, with one 



"KENTUCKY WILL TAKE CARE OF ITSELF." 185 

Gabriel Jones, a representative or delegate to the Legislature of Virginia; and pro- 
ceeding to Williamsburg, then the capital of Virginia, found the Legislature ad- 
journed. He submitted his credentials to Governor Patrick Henry, who was lying 
ill ; urged upon the Governor the pressing needs of Kentucky; and claimed the pro- 
tection of Virginia's strong arm. Virginia had as much as she could do to take care 
of herself ; but the heart of Henry was touched by the representations of the chival- 
ric young man, and he gave him a letter to the Representative Council of the State. 
These gentlemen said they could do nothing for him, because the Kentuckians were 
not yet recognized by the Legislature as citizens. They, however, said, "You shall 
have five hundred pounds of gunpowder for the Kentuckians, as a loan from friends, 
provided you will enter into personal recognizances for the value of the same." 
"No," he replied, "I cannot accept it. It is unjust to demand individual security 
from me, when I ask the powder for the service of the country." "But," they said, 
"it cannot be had otherwise." "Very well," he replied, "a country that is not 
worth defending is not worth claiming. Kentucky will take care of itself." Mr. 
Jefferson, Mr. Wythe, and other members of the Council, impressed by the lofty, 
decided tone of the young man, at last procured him an order for the powder, to be 
delivered to him at Pittsburg. Receiving it there, he embarked it in a keel-boat, 
and, Avith the guard of seven men, hastened down the river, hotly pursued by the 
Lidians. Gaining the mouth of Limestone Creek, the site of Maysville, they 
ascended it a little way, scattered the precious cargo in various places of concealment 
in the woods, set their boat adrift, and hastened to Harrod's station. Returning with 
a sufficient escort, they brought the ammunition in safety home, and supplied the scat- 
tered forts with the means of defense against the now increasinoj waves of Indian in- 
cursion from north of the Ohio. Nor was the powder the only good gift he brought. 
Against the strenuous opposition of Col. Campbell and the great land speculator, 
Col. Henderson, he and his colleague succeeded in inducing the Virginia Legislature 
to erect Kentucky into a county ; and thus he brought back to his adopted home its 
first political organization, entitling it to representation in the Virginia Assembly, 
and to the benefits of a regular judicial and military establishment. 

That fearful torrent of savage invasion which surged so furiously upon the scat- 
tered stations and settlements of Kentuckj- during the revolutionarj^ years, was now 
in full activity. British soldiers, French Canadians, Indian warriors, either in 
separate or allied hosts, beleaguered the rude log forts, haunted the settlements, 
waylaid hunter and woodsman, peaceful laborer, and innocent child. One after 



186 CLARKE FOLLOWS THE EXAMPLE OF GIDEON. 

another the best and bravest of the Kentuckians were picked off by the lurking foe; 
blood flowed like water; and this infernal league of pretended Christians with savages 
little less than fiends in ferocity and cruelty, seemed likely to waste away the sparse 
and feeble white settlements by a slow and bloody, but sure process of exhaustion. 
For a year and more, Clarke ranged the woodj^, generally alone in the midst of all 
the war and danger, keenly enjoying a long series of desperate adventures, and par- 
ticipating in many hardy frontier fights, of which no detailed record remains. But 
his profound and penetrating genius soon awoke to the important truth — which the 
Virginian authorities had not apprehended — that the true field for opposing this 
bitter, cruel contest, was not so much within the devastated fields and haunted forests 
of bleeding Kentucky, as afar within the distant forests of the North ; at the great 
Indian towns where the warriors recruited their forces, where their squaws labored 
and their children played ; and still more, at the British posts of Detroit, Vincennes 
and Kaskaskia, the unfailing fountain of succor to the tribes ; where arms and cloth- 
ino- and gay ornaments were sold by British officers to the red warriors for scalps; or 
given freely away to them, if they would only earn them by a foray on the American 
settlements. 

Clarke resolved to attack these posts, convinced that this would strike a fatal blow 
at the heart of the war; and in 1777, he sent two spies to examine the ground, whose 
report of the activity and efficiency of the English garrisons in maintaining the 
savao-e war stimulated his resolve still more. In December of the same year, he laid 
before Governor Henry the plan of a bold, sudden and secret blow at the enemy, 
which that officer and his council quickly approved. With two sets of instructions, a 
public one authorizing him to go and defend Kentucky, and a secret one directing 
him to organize a force and take Kaskaskia, he returned, raised four companies 
instead of the authorized number of seven — for the women would not let so many 
men leave their homes undefended — then sifted these after the fashion of Gideon, 
until he had a hundred and fifty-three men ; and with a military chest containing 
twelve hundred pounds in depreciated paper money, and re-inforcing this small 
amount by a bounty of three hundred acres of land for each soldier, he set out. They 
descended the Ohio until within forty miles of its mouth, disembarked, sunk their 
boats to hide them, and then, each nuui carrying his baggage and stores, himself 
foremost in the march and partaking of every exposure, they plunged into the howl- 
ino- wilderness of marshes and forests, a tangled, hopeless labyrinth in which even 
their veteran guides lost their way. After a most toilsome march of one hundred 



CAPTURE OF KASKASKIA. 187 

and twent}^ miles, they reached the neighborhood of the fort unpereeived, on the 
evening of July 4th, 1778. Waiting until midnight, Clarke made a brief, stirring 
address to his men, then sent Capt. Helm with a detachment to secure and guard the 
town, and himself advanced against the fort. A lonely light burned in a small house 
outside the stockade. A corporal's guard silently secured the party within; and a 
Pennsylvanian among them, not a lover of England, volunteered to guide the assault, 
and showed them an entrance through a postern gate. Colonel Clarke, with his 
main body, took possession of the various defenses of the fort; and the fearless 
Simon Kenton, with a file of men, stepping softly into the bedroom of the com- 
mander. Lieutenant Rocheblave, governor of the Illinois country, quietly asleep by 
the side of his wife, touched him. He awoke, was informed that he was a prisoner, 
and was forced to make unconditional surrender of the fort and garrison. But Mrs. 
Rocheblave, a bold and shrewish dame, sprang out of bed in her night-gear, seized 
her husband's papers and disposed them about her person, railing in good set terms 
at the ungallant intrusion into a ladv's bed-chamber. And so delicately over-polite 
were the rough sons of the woods, that they would not lay hands on a woman; and 
thus the scold gained time to secrete or destroj^ all the documents. Clarke now pro- 
ceeded to strike a wholesome fear of the "Bostonais" — as the French called all the 
American colonists — into the bosoms of the simple Frenchmen ; and the measures he 
took for a day or two were well calculated to maintain the horrible apprehensions 
which the British had diligently instilled into them of the ferocious and blood-thirsty 
brutality of the "Long-Knives." Surrounding the town, he ordered the troops to 
wdioop and yell all night, as the Indians did ; sent runners throughout the town to 
proclaim in French that any enemy found in the streets would be instantly shot down ; 
that all the inhabitants must observe profound silence ; and that no intercourse would 
be permitted between houses. Then he sent a sergeant's guard, which completely 
disarmed the town in a couple of hours. When daylight returned, having gained 
abundant intelligence respecting the posts and defenses in the vicinity, and having 
secured his prisoners and sundry suspicious persons, and even ironed certain militia 
officers in the British service, he drew off his troops behind a hill, prohibited all 
intercourse between them and any doubtful characters, and placed the town under 
martial law. In all things he acted with an air of stern promptness and cold severity, 
using but few words, and those of menacing character. 

This threatening demeanor soon became intolerable to the simple-minded French. 
They deputed six principal citizens, with the priest. Father Gibault, at their head, to 



188 UNBOUNDED JOY SUCCEEDS TERRIFIED GLOOM. 

beg this terrible commander to mitigate a little the mjsterious vengeance thus de- 
laying to fall. The priest and his fellows were admitted to the quarters of the Amer- 
ican general, and found him seated with his officers. The almost gigantic forms of 
the dreaded "Bostonais," their sordid apparel, all torn and begrimed from thicket and 
swamp, their grim features and wild, fierce looks, appalled the very souls of the uu- 
warlike French, and for a .short season they stood speechless in their terror. At 
length the priest found voice to prefer, he said, one small request. Evidently the 
townsmen were expecting a repetition of the inhuman Acadian tragedy. He said 
that as his people expected to be torn from each other, probably forever, they begged 
leave to assemble once more in their little church to take leave of each other. 
Colonel Clarke briefly and austerely granted the request, but warned them against 
attempting to leave the town. Something more the deputies would have said, but 
Clarke, with a stern gesture, intimated that he had not time for further conversation, 
and they retired. The sad congregation assembled at church, and indulged in the 
melancholy pleasure of a last farewell ; and again the little embassy waited on the 
conqueror. They humbly thanked him for the favor received ; and added, that al- 
though they knew they must submit to the fate of war, and could endure the loss of 
property, they would pray not to be separated from their wives and children, and to 
be allowed some small means of support; and they said something further of the sub- 
missive ignorance in which they had obeyed their commandants ; of their total unac- 
quaintance with the causes of the war; and hinted at good inclinatiorl toward the 
United States. 

Clarke turned sternly to the priestly spokesman : "Do you take us for savages and 
cannibals?" he asked. "We disdain to war upon the innocent and helpless. We 
are defending ourselves against the Indians — not attacking you. The French king 
is leagued with us ; the victory will soon be ours ; we only desire to transfer j^our al- 
legiance from Great Britain to the United States ; and, to prove my words, take 
home the news that your friends shall be released. Your townsmen may go where 
they please, safe in person and property." 

The astounded deputies would have apologized for their mistaken estimate of 
American character, but were prevented and desired to communicate their informa- 
tion to the inhabitants. The most unbounded joy instantly took the place of the 
terrified gloom that had darkened the town ; the bells rang out; and crowding into 
their well-beloved church again, the devout little flock offered heartfelt thanks to 
God for this unexpected release. 



'*HALT, OR I WILL BLOW YOU TO ATOMS ! " 189 

Clarke now sent a detachment which secured Cahokia; and the inhabitants of 
Vincennes, a little afterwards, expelled the British garrison, and declared themselves 
citizens of the United States, and of the State of Virginia. After considerable 
negotiation, in which he exhibited great judgment, and still more remarkable knowl- 
edge of the Indian character, he succeeded, before the end of September of the 
same year, in impressing all the tribes of the Illinois and upper Mississippi Avith a 
great respect for the American character and name, and in concluding treaties with 
all of them. 

Before the end of the year, however, Hamilton, governor at Detroit, both alarmed 
and mortified by the brilliant success of Clarke, learning that many of the Viro-inians 
had returned home, mustered a force of eighty soldiers, together with some Canadian 
militia, and making a rapid march down the Wabash, reached Vincennes, now gar- 
risoned by Capt. Helm with one soldier and a little squad of volunteer militia. 
Hamilton, informed that the garrison was feeble, was already advancing to the attack 
at the head of his forces, when Helm, springing upon a bastion near a six-pounder 
trained upon the British column, and waving his lighted match in the air, hailed 
them with the stern command : "Halt, or I will blow you to atoms I " A little doubt- 
ful whether this bold defender would not fulfill his threat, Hamilton actually obeyed 
the order, beat a parley, and made a formal demand for the surrender of the fort; 
to which Helm replied that he would capitulate if allowed all the honors of war, but 
otherwise he would hold out the fort as long as a man was left alive to shoulder a 
gun. Hamilton consented to the terms, and was disgusted when, the gates being 
thrown open, the bold Kentuckian marched out with all possible formalities, and laid 
down his arms, together with a force of five men, all told. The lateness of the season 
preventing him from further movements, Hamilton occupied the fort at Vincennes, 
and while he prepared to complete his re-conquest of Illinois in the spring, launched 
war-party after war-party upon the frontiers of Virginia and Pennsylvania, thus 
keeping his Indian allies employed until his projected combination of movements in 
the spring. 

Col. Clarke was informed, in the end of January, 1779, that Hamilton had now 
but eighty soldiers at Vincennes ; and preferring to take him rather than be taken 
by him, prepared for a winter march against that fort. He set out on the 7tli of 
February with one hundred and thirty men ; having sent a detachment in an armed 
keel-boat to aAvait orders on the Wabash below the mouth of White River, and to 
permit no passage upon that stream. For one hundred and fifty miles the little army 



190 



ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILES, KNEE-DEEP, WAIST-DEEP. 



pursued an Indian trail through dense forests and low prairies soaked and flooded 
with the long rains of an uncommonly wet season ; across creeks commonly forded 
with ease, but now presenting lagoons miles broad, knee-deep, waist-deep, even arm- 




CLARKE AND HIS SOLDIERS CROSSING THE WABASH. 

pit deep, so that they must carry provisions, arms, and ammunition on their heads to 
keep them dry. Thus they labored on, through forest and low land, through mud 
and mire, through flood, stream and falling rain, and in six days had advanced ahun- 



VINCENNES SURRENDERS TO CLARKE. 191 

dred miles, to the crossing of the Little Wabash. Wuding two feet deep, and often 
over four, thej proceeded through a similar dreadful country seventeen days more, 
and on the 18th encamped at evening on Embarass River, within nine miles of the 
fort, and wnthin hearing of the morning and evening gun. After waiting two days, 
they succeeded in capturing a boat and getting across the river. There, however, still 

remained a broad and deep sheet of water, upon reaching which the detachment 

which indeed could not possibly have sustained the hardships of this extraordinary 
march so long, had not the w^eather been remarkably mild — showed evident signs of 
alarm and despair. Col. Clarke, observing this, quietly put some powder in his 
hand, blacked his face, raised an Indian war-whoop, and marched into the water. 
Electrified and amused, the weary troops forgot their discouragement, plunged in 
after their stout-hearted leader, and singing in chorus, waded most of the time up 
to their arm-pits, for miles and miles, until at last they reached the opposite high- 
lands, so utterly worn out that many of the men fell as they touched the shore, let- 
ting their bodies lie half in the water, rather than take two or three additional steps 
to higher o-round. 

Having sent a message to the inhabitants of the town, who thought the expedi- 
tion was from Kentucky and never dreamed of its coming from Illinois, Clarke, after 
resting a day or two, set out for Vincennes, marched up and down among some hills, 
showing different colors, that his force might look three or four times as large as it 
was; drew up his men back of the village, and sent fourteen riflemen to pepper the 
fort. So complete was the surprise, that the crack of the rifle w^as Hamilton's first 
intimation of the siege. He was at the moment — it was evening — amusins: himself 
socially with his prisoner, Capt. Helm, over a game at cards and a glass of apple-toddy. 
As the report struck his ear, Helm sprang up, as if inspired, and cried out in his rough 
delight, "It's Clarke, by all that's good, and we shall all be his prisoners." The 
town at once surrendered. The riflemen gathered about the fort, and shot down 
every man w^ho showed himself over the wall. After the moon went down, Clarke 
had a deep ditch dug within ninety feet of the fort; and early next day the marks- 
men, posting themselves in it and thus sheltered from the guns of the fort, blazed 
aw^ay by dozens at every port-hole, silencing two pieces of cannon in fifteen minutes, 
by shooting every man who touched them, until the terrified gunners refused to man 
the batteries, and the fort lay silent and unresisting beneath the unerring aim of 
the hunters. After eighteen hours' firing, Clarke summoned the fort, which Hamil- 
ton, after considerable negotiation, surrendered. Clarke lost only one man before 



192 CLARKE COMMISSIONED A BRIGADIER-GENERAL. 

the walls ; and during the siege he also surprised and routed a party of Indians 
just returned from an attack on Kentucky, and took a convoy of goods and military 
supplies from Detroit, worth about fifty thousand dollars. He sent Hamilton and 
some of his officers to Virginia, where, along with Kocheblave from Kaskaskia, they 
Avere, with entire propriety, put in close prison in irons, in retaliation for the horrid 
cruelties perpetrated under their command on the frontier, and for their barbarous 
treatment of American prisoners. 

In 1780, Col. Clarke called on Kentucky for volunteers for an inroad into the Indian 
country, to retaliate for Byrd's expedition. So ready was the response that in a 
short time he found himself at the head of a noble force of a thousand riflemen, with 
whom, using the speed and secrecy so characteristic of his military movements, he 
surprised an Indian town in Ohio, slew seventeen of the savages, burned their dwell- 
ings and destroyed their crops. The Indians were thus obliged to hunt for a living 
all summer, and could not send their accustomed war-parties against the settlements. 

AVith his usual penetrating breadth of view, Clarke had long considered a scheme 
for taking the British post at Detroit; and in December, 1780, he induced the gov- 
ernment of Virginia to co-operate with him in his design. But the invasion of Ar- 
nold interrupting the plan, he served under Steuben against him; and then resum- 
ing it, succeeded so far that two thousand troops were to rendezvous at Louisville 
for the expedition, in March, 1781, and he himself was commissioned brigadier- 
general. 

But many unforeseen difficulties prevented the army from inarching; and the bold 
and active Clarke, who had dreamed so long of extirpating the British power in the 
Northwest by thus striking at its center, was obliged to remain almost in idleness, 
defending; the frontier against a few scattered bands of Indian marauders. Thus 
chafing in unwelcome restraint, he grew discontented; and then, resorting to a 
greater evil to cure a less, fell into habits of drinking; and as thus his high spirit 
prej^ed upon itself, and his unhappy vice sapped strength of mind and body together, 
his great powers showed signs of failure. The shrewd, observant backwoodsman, 
who then, as now, judged men as men, and thought them neither less nor more for 
titles, prerogatives, or pretensions, saw his lack of that passive endurance which 
marks the loftier grade of heroism ; saw that he was less a soldier and less a man ; 
and as mind and body failed, his influence went down, too. 

Yet, in that period of stupid, terrified dejection which followed the great calamity 
of the defeat at Blue Licks in 1782, where the furious rashness of one man — Hugh 



LAST CAMPAIGN AND DEATH OF GENERAL CLARKE. 193 

McGary— cost Kentucky a confounding defeat, and the lives of sixty of her best 
and bravest men, Gen. Clarke showed himself still a ready and active soldier. He 
proclaimed that he would lead his regiment upon a retaliatory expedition into Ohio, and 
called again for volunteers, who gathered to his standard with the old time prompti- 
tude. Again, a thousand riflemen assembled on the Ohio, and marched upon the In- 
dian towns. The savages fled so fast before this powerful and vengeful force, that 
not only did they nowhere offer to resist, but only twelve in all were either killed or 
taken. Five of their towns were burned, and a vast quantity of their provisions, be- 
side all their crops, were destroyed; and so severe was this lesson to the Indians, that 
from that time they dared no longer invade Kentucky, except in sly, snnill war- 
parties. 

Once more, in 1786, General Clarke headed an army destined against the Indian 
towns on the Wabash River; but the expedition was unsuccessful, and returned 
without reaching its destination. After this, Clarke's name appears no more in pub- 
lic transactions, except as temporary holder of a major-general's commission from 
France in that force which the frantic visionary and revolutionary democrat, Genet, 
would fain have raised in Kentucky to bring Spanish Louisiana under the dominion 
of the French republic. After long suffering from infirmities his powerful frame 
succumbed to a paralysis growing out of rheumatic disorders. He died at Locust 
Grove, near Louisville, in February, 1818, and was buried there. 

This brief and unsatisfactory sketch is all that space allows us to devote to the 
great qualities and bold deeds of unquestionably the greatest military genius sent by 
Virginia to Kentucky, notwithstanding that the only arena for his operations was the 
pathless wilderness beyond the mountains. He was unequaled among all the west- 
ern pioneers not only for military ability and daring, speed and secrecy, but for 
practical statesmanship, political foresight, judgment for combining plans, and en- 
ergy in executing them, and a quality still higher, which points him out yet more 
clearly as a born ruler and statesman — namely, the power of controlling men. His 
genius was sufliciently shown in the success with which he led his hardy little band 
through unparalleled sufferings against Vincennes, and in the complete obedience 
and subordination which he so easily obtained from the rude, reckless, and utterly 
independent hunters and fighters of the forest; but it appears still more in the influ- 
ence and admiration which he trained amon<j the savage tribes of the Northwest, who 
wondered at and feared him almost as a superhuman being. 
13 



CHAPTER IX. 



THE BATTLE OF KING'S MOUNTAIN. 



A MOUNTAIN DUEL. SETTLING THE PRELIMINARIES. ADVANCE AND RETREAT. THE FIGHT 

ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP. GALLANTRY OF THE MOUNTAINEERS. DEATH OF COLONEL FER- 
GUSON. A DECISIVE VICTORY. 

TO give one more illustration of the calibre of the men of the border, let us 
briefly narrate a single achievement, which, though often told, has not lost 
its romantic freshness ; a story which nobly illustrates the generous daring and mili- 
tary abilities of the sons of the western woods — the story of King's Mountain. 

We will first briefly sketch the deeds of the men before their gallant attack on 
Ferguson. Col. John Sevier, chief militia officer of the eastern part of the State of 
Tennessee— then Washington County, in North Carolina — received in March, 1780, a 
requisition from General Rutherford, of North Carolina, for one hundred men, to be 
sent to the aid of South Carolina. Col. Isaac Shelby, of Sullivan County, also then 
in North Carolina, received a similar requisition. They each raised two hundred 
mounted riflemen ; but were fortunately too late to reach Rutherford, and suffer in 
the fatal battle of Camden. They, however, reached the camp of Colonel McDowell, 
Rutherford's second in command, in July, and were presently sent to attack Colonel 
Moore, Avho had been raising the Tories in the western Carolinas for the king, and 
now occupied a strong fort on the Pacolet River. With six hundred men more, 
under Colonel Clark, of Georgia, the riflemen, a thousand in all, set off at sunset, 
marched twenty miles that night, and at dawn had surrounded the fort, which, after 
some parley, surrendered. 

Cornwallis, irritated at this bold stroke, detached Colonel Patrick Ferguson with 
one hundred picked men, to gather and train the Tories of the western counties of 
South Carolina, and to take and hold the strongest positions there. Ferguson was a 
bold, experienced and successful soldier, himself a trained and skillful rifle shot, and 
a ready and ingenious man. He had already invented, to oppose the fatal skill of 

194 



AMERICAN RIFLEMEN TOO MUCH FOR TORIES AND REGULARS. 195 

the mountain rifles so much feared by Regulars and low-land Tories, a breech-loading 
rifle, capable of being discharged seven times in a minute. He soon raised so many 
Loyalists as put him at the head of two thousand men, and a small body of horse. 
Colonel McDowell detached Shelby and Colonel Clark with six hundred men to 
watch his movements and cut off his foragers. These, Ferguson repeatedly but 
vainly endeavored to surprise. It would have been strange indeed if the Regulars 
could have surprised those sly Indian fighters. He did once, it is true, come up with 
them; but when he did come up, the Americans, who were sharply engaged with his 
advanced guard, rode off with twenty prisoners, two of them officers, whom they had 
just taken ; so that Colonel Ferguson only lost by his haste. 

Colonel McDowell soon sent Shelby and Clark, together with Col. Williams of 
South Carolina and six hundred men, to surprise a party of some five hundred Tories 
at Musgrove's Mill on the Ennoree, about forty miles distant, and in a line directly 
beyond Ferguson's camp. Again the hardy riders, setting out at dusk, riding hard 
all night long, and skirting round Ferguson's camp four or five miles off, met at 
dawn a strong patrol about half a mile from the Tory camp. These they drove in, 
and at the same time learned that instead of five hundred, the enemy in front re- 
ceived a re-inforcement of six hundred Regulars. Evidently they could neither attack 
double their number, wearied as they were by their long night ride, nor could they 
for the same reason safely retreat. They therefore determined to hold their ground 
and receive the enemy's attack. Sending forward an advanced party to skirmish, 
fire and retire at discretion, they speedily threw up a slight breastwork of logs and 
brushwood, and lay down behind it. The Tory drums and bugles soon announced 
their advance with horse and foot; they drove in the scattered advanced guard, and 
thinking that all the Americans were retreating, advanced hastily and in disorderly 
array, until they were greeted, at seventy yards from the breastwork, with a de- 
structive fire. Undismayed, they attacked with spirit, but for a whole hour could 
make no impression upon the feeble but stoutly defended line of the riflemen. Just 
as part of the Americans were beginning to give way. Col. Innes, the British com- 
mander, was wounded. Every one of his subalterns but one was already killed or 
wounded; Captain Hawsey, a notorious Tory leader, in command of the Loyalists, was 
shot; the whole British line wavered, and a furious charge from the riflemen drove 
them in disorder over the Ennoree. The Tories fled first, and of the Regulars, who 
fought like brave men, more than two hundred were made prisoners. 



196 SUCCESSFUL RETREAT WITH TWO HUNDRED PRISONERS. 

The indefatigable mountain men, without waiting to rest, remounted their horses, 
which had been reposing during the battle, and prepared to swoop down upon the 
British fort at Ninety-Six, thirty miles further. As they were in the act of starting, 
an express came up with a letter which he gave to Col. Shelby. It was forwarded by 
McDowell; was from Governor Caswell of North Carolina, dated on the battle-field 
of Camden, bringing the news of that fatal field; and advised McDowell to "get out 
of the way," for that the enemy would now endeavor to cut off in detail all detached 
parties of Americans. So much false and erroneous intelligence was abroad in those 
days of treachery and peril that none would have known whether to believe this sad 
letter, had not Col. Shelby been familiar with Gov. Caswell's handwriting. Instant 
decision was necessary, and was made. It was probable that Ferguson was now in- 
formed of the defeat on the Ennoree, and would instantly push to cut them off from 
McDowell. Nor would their weary horses and wearier selves admit of the further ad- 
vance on Ninety-Six, through regions swarming with Tories now encouraged by the 
British successes over Gates and Sumpter. It was not safe to delay even an hour, 
lest Ferguson should be upon them. The prisoners were instantly distributed, one 
to each three horsemen, to take turns in riding behind them; and the whole force, 
facing westward, rode straight for the mountains. Weary as they were, they pushed 
on all that day, all the night, and all the next day until late in the evening, without 
a single halt. This prompt retreat and desperate speed saved them ; for it afterward 
appeared that Ferguson's second in command. Captain De Peyster, had ridden hard 
after them with a strong force of horse, until the end of the second day his men broke 
down under the fatigue and heat. Shelby passed the mountain ; Clark and Williams 
carried the prisoners northward. McDowell's arni}^ disbanded, and he and many of 
his men also crossed the mountain to the hospitable settlements of Watauga and Nol- 
lichucky, whence had come many of the bold riflemen who fought so well against 
Moore and Innes. 

Thus disappeared the last remnant of an American army south of the Potomac, ex- 
cept the spiritless and broken band that remained with Gates at Hillsboro'. Con- 
gress was penniless and bankrupt; the States were little better; the army unfed, un- 
paid, and miserable; the whole country distressed and discouraged; the British tri- 
umphant, their forces ravaging and rioting at will up and down the land, and their 
Tory allies waging an inhuman and monstrous warfare upon their Whig neighbors and 
countrymen. Large numbers of the Carolina Whigs sent their families across the 
mountains for safety, themselves remaining in the extremest peril to protect their 



COLONEL Ferguson's challenge accepted. 197 

property. Earl Cornwallis, having occupied his time until the arrival of provisions 

from Charleston, in putting into operation a rigorous system of military tyranny 

not hesitating to murder and banish the Whigs and rob them of their property, to up- 
hold his authority in South Carolina — advanced from Camden toward Viro-inia, on 
the 18th of September, 1780. 

Col. Ferguson, at the head of his force of Kegulars and Loyalists, had been dil- 
igently at work among the Tories in the western counties. He had followed close 
after De Peyster in the fruitless chase of Shelby and his mountain men ; but failino- 
in this, had now posted himself at Gilbert Town, near Rutherfordton, in North Car- 
olina, not far from the foot of the mountains. Here he delivered to one Phillips, a 
prisoner on parole, a haughty message to the people west of the mountains ; that if 
they did not cease opposing the British arms, he would come across, lay the country 
waste, and hang their chiefs. 

This message Phillips brought to Shelby in the end of August. That leader, 
mounting in haste, rode fifty miles and more to his brother-colonel, Sevier, and on 
consulting, they determined to raise as large a force of riflemen as possible, make a 
forced march through the mountain, and surprise Ferguson, or, at least, weaken him, 
and render him unable to fulfill his threat. 

The rendezvous was fixed for the twenty-fifth of September, at Sycamore Shoals, 
in Watauga. Here, on the appointed day, gathered more than a thousand men, manv 
of them armed and equipped with money obtained on the personal security of Shelby 
and Sevier; all well mounted; almost every man carrying a Deckhard rifle — a choice 
weapon for true aim and long range, named from its maker, a famous gunsmith of 
Lancaster, in Pennsylvania. Nearly all wore the hunting-shirt of the backwoods, 
leggins and moccasins ; a few appearing in their usual citizen's dress. Volunteers 
for the defense of their hearthstones, they needed neither uniform nor esprit de 
corps, except what common danger and common patriotism inspired. 

Early next morning, after prayer by a clergyman present, the riflemen mounted 
and took up the line of march, following trading and pioneer paths. Unencumbered 
with the staff and baggage of a regular army, they moved so rapidly that on the 
second day they abandoned some cattle which they had undertaken to drive along for 
provisions. Light-armed, with rifle, shot-pouch, knife, tomahawk, knapsack and 
blanket, they hunted for food as they went, and drank the water of the mountain 
streams until after passing the mountains, when they quartered themselves on the 
Tories. 



198 IN HOT PURSUIT OF FERGUSON. 

On the day after starting, two men were missing. They had deserted to the en- 
emy. To render their information useless, the army descended the eastern slope of 
the Blue Ridge by remote and unfrequented paths; and on reaching the foot, fell in 
with a party of three hundred and fifty Whigs, waiting there in the woods for an op- 
portunity to act against the British. These gladly joined them. And from all the 
settlements small daily additions were made to the force of brave men eager to reach 
the foe. 

October 3d, a council was held within eighteen miles of Ferguson's post, at Gilbert 
Town. After some discussion, a messenger was sent to Gates for a general officer 
to command the force, and Colonel Campbell, who had led four hundred men to the 
rendezvous at Watauga, was chosen commander in the interim. Next day the moun- 
tain army advanced to Gilbert Town ; but Ferguson was gone. He had heard of 
the vengeful storm gathering along the western mountains, and after exhausting the 
language of entreaty and reproach upon the intimidated Loyalists — rwho feared it too — 
in endeavors to assemble them about his standard, he unwillingly retreated toward 
Cornwallis, sending him an urgent request for a re-inforcement, and marching in sev- 
eral directions among Loyalist neighborhoods, to keep out of the way of the riflemen. 

But Colonel Campell and his hardy riders understood Ferguson's movements. A 
council was held, and a still more rapid pursuit resolved on. All that night the com- 
manders picked the best men, horses and rifles, and at dawn set out again with the 
flower of the army, leaving the rest to follow more leisurely. They heard as they 
hastened along of one and another large gathering of Tories, but on they went; 
they ^vere striking for Ferguson, and Avould turn aside for no meaner game. Four 
hundred and sixty more men, under Col. Hambright and Col. Williams, joined them 
at the Cow-Pens, where th^y halted and alighted for an hour to refresh and to make 
another choice, and started for the last time with a force of nine hundred and fifty 
men. Except this delay, the indefatigable riflemen never once stopped during the 
last thirty-six hours of the pursuit. 

It was the morning of the 7th of October, 1780. The determined mountain men 
were still sternly hastening upon the hourly freshening traces of the fleeing Fer- 
guson. They rode on through a rain so heavy that they w^ere fain to keep the 
locks of their rifles dry by wrapping them with blankets and hunting shirts, even at 
the expense of exposing themselves to the storm. The advanced guard came up with 
some unarmed men who reported themselves just from Ferguson's camp. A brief 
halt was made, and a close examination disclosed the fact that Ferguson was in 



THE FIGHT ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP. 199 

camp three miles in front; that next day he proposed to march to Cornwallis's head- 
quarters; and that certain roads would lead directly to his camp, pitched on ground 
which Col. Williams declared, on description, that he and some of his men knew 
well. Brief consultation sufficed. Ferguson must never join the haughty British 
earl. The storm had cleared away. They resolved to march at once, to complete 
their work first, and rest and refresh afterward. The command was at once o-iven to 
put the rifles in fighting condition and prime anew ; the order of battle was the well- 
known hereditary manoeuvre of the Indians and of these veteran Indian-fighters ; to 
surround the enemy and attack him at once from all sides. Remounting, the little 
army was again in motion. Within one mile of the enemy, an express to Cornwallis 
was taken; on his person was found an urgent letter to the earl, stating Fero-uson's 
force — the number of which, eleven hundred and twenty-five men, was prudently con- 
cealed from the Americans by their officers — demanding instant re-inforcements, and 
informing his commander-in-chief that he was securely encamped on the top of a hill 
which he had named King's Mountain, in honor of his majesty; and that "if all the 
rebels out of hell should attack him, they could not drive him from it." All these 
items, except his fotce, were communicated to the Americans; and spurring on, they 
advanced at a gallop to a point within sight of Ferguson's stronghold. Arrivino- 
within view of the field of battle, it was at once evident that the right plan had been 
adopted. Ferguson and his Regulars and Tories held the crest of the mountain, in 
a line about a quarter of a mile long ; an isolated height rising from the general level 
of the country, and covered and croAvned with open woods. The final orders for the 
battle were given while yet out of rifle-shot. Campbell, Shelb}^ Sevier, McDowell, 
and Winston, with their men, were to file to the right, round the mountain; Ham- 
bright and Chronicle were to pass round the other way and meet them; and Cleve- 
land and Williams to fill the remainder of the line in front. When in position, each 
division was to front face, raise the war-whoop and charge. They advanced again, 
dismounted about a third of a mile from the hill-top, tied their horses and the de- 
tachments separated for their places. Before they were quite ready, the enemy, 
hitherto silent and watchful, opened fire and wounded some of Shelby's men. Shelby 
and McDowell on this faced at once toward the foe, and returned the fire with 
effect; while Campbell's column coming up, charged fiercely up the mountain and 
commenced a fatal fire on the Tories who held that end of the line. Ferguson, hcar- 
inor the firing:, sent a force of Regulars from the other end of his line, and with lev- 
eled bayonets they charged upon the advancing columns of McDowell, Shelby and 



200 THE FIGHT ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP. 

Sevier. So furious was their assault, that those three columns were driven headlong 
down the hill. But at this very moment, the four columns on the left, having pushed 
up the hill and driven in the pickets, began a close and heavy fire upon the Regulars, 
who had here a slight breastwork of wagons, and were under the command of Fergu- 
son himself. Capt. De Peyster, who had headed the charge on Shelby, was at once 
recalled, receiving as he came a severe fire from Col. Williams' column, and was or- 
dered to charge again with all the Regulars upon their new adversaries. Again the 
bayonets were leveled, and a desperate attack drove the riflemen to the foot of the 
hill, Major Chronicle being killed in the struggle. 

It is, of course, impossible for riflemen to withstand the shock of a bayonet charge. 
But the resolute mountain men, though they retreated, did it only to renew the fight ; 
for the enemy dared not advance many rods from his vantage-ground above. As De 
Peyster returned from his charge on Shelby, to charge again on Cleveland and 
Chronicle, the columns of Shelby, Campbell and McDowell followed him up, rallying 
readily to the shout that the British were retreating ; and pushing up almost to the 
British camp, they exchanged deadly fire with the Tory riflemen at that end of the 
height. Again the bayonet was tried ; but already the fatal rifl^-bullet had thinned 
the ranks of Ferguson's scanty band of Regulars until the British colonel was forced 
to have his Tories' butcher-knives stuck into the muzzles of their rifles for bayonets, 
before he could muster a line strong enough for the charge. Down they came, how- 
ever, and again the riflemen retreated before them ; but this time not so far, and 
after a comparatively feeble attack, De Peyster retired within his lines. 

And now the American columns surrounded the mountain, and closing in, a fatal 
ring of fire drew slowly and sternly around the stubborn British colonel and his bold 
troops. While a fierce discharge was kept up at each end of the British position, 
Sevier's column made a powerful attack upon their center. The British forces were 
partly concentrated to repel these obstinate assaults ; and while a stubborn contest 
was maintained here, Shelby and Campbell with one bold charge reached the crest 
of the mountain at the end held by the Tories, effected a lodgment, and slowlj^ but 
surely drove their foes in toward the other extremity of the line. 

Hotter and closer grew the ring of fire ; and still the leveled bayonets gleamed on 
this side and on that, and the light-footed mountain men, vanishing before them, 
swarmed back upon their footsteps the moment they halted, while the Americans on 
the opposite side seized the opportunity to advance again in their turn. But the 
charges of the wearied and fearfully diminished band of Regulars grew less furious 



DEATH OF COL. FERGUSON. 201 

and shorter. And all the time Shelby and Campbell were creeping alono- the crest 
of the hill, driving the Tories before them, crowding them in upon the Regulars, the 
deadly mountain rifles picking them off with fearful rapidity. Ferguson, cool and 
daring as ever, still rode up and down his line, encouraging his men, supporting the 
weakest places, exposing himself to every danger, and carrying in one hand which 
had been wounded, a silver whistle whose loud and piercing sound, heard over the 
whole battle-field, enabled him to signal instantaneously to all his men. He sent 
De Peyster with the Regulars to re-inforce a weak position. It was but one hundred 
yards away ; but before he reached it, the fatal Deckhard rifles had left him so few 
men that their aid was not worth countins:. 

Ferguson then ordered his cavalry to mount; intending to head them and sweep 
down in a resistless attack upon the Americans. But they could not mount, or if 
they did, they fell out of their saddles as fast as they reached them ; for lifted on 
the horses, they presented a fairer mark for the rifles. 

And still the ring of fire contracted ; and now, driven in disorder far from the 
British left, the Tories, who always blenched first when they fought beside the 
Regulars, dismayed and hopeless, raised the flag of surrender. But Ferguson 
galloped up and tore it down. Then the Regulars at the other end of the line raised 
another, and the heroic commander, seemingly the only man left in the host, rode 
back again through the fire and cut it down with his sabre. This time his brave 
subordinate, De Peyster, who had admonished him before that further resistance was 
hopeless and that he ought to surrender, admonished him again. But he declared 
in the bitterness of his soul, "I will never surrender to such a d — d set of 
banditti," And still riding desperately to and fro, he encouraged and strengthened 
the wavering ranks, and alone restored the battle; for Avhenever his voice or his 
whistle was heard, the enemy rallied and fought bravely. But the riflemen, seeing 
that his resistance would end only wnth his life, after having seemingly spared him 
for his bravery for a long time, now forced to make an end of the contest, aimed 
their fatal weapons at him. He fell, and died at once. 

De Peyster, now left in command, seeing that his men, few in number, crowded 
in disorder together, and falling rapidly under the dreadful concentrated fire of the 
Americans, could no longer hope for success or safety, almost immediately raised 
the white flag again, and called for quarter. The fire of the Americans ceased, ex- 
cept from a few young men, who either did not know what the flag meant, or sup- 
posed it would come down as before. Shelby called out to the British to throw down 



DECISIVE VICTORY FOR THE AMERICANS. 203 

their arms, which they did ; when all firing ceased, and the Americans, after one 
hour's hard fighting, were completely victorious. 

Ferguson's force was annihilated; for two hundred and twenty-five were killed, 
nearly two hundred more disabled, and all the rest, more than seven hundred, pris- 
oners. But few escaped. The Americans had lost about thirty killed, and sixty 
wounded. Encamping on the battle-field that night, they rose early, and at dawn— 
a peaceful Sabbath dawn — went forth and buried their dead. Then they burned the 
enemy's wagons, and prepared to return to the mountains with their seven hundred 
prisoners, fifteen hundred stands of arms, many horses, and a great mass of supplies 
and booty. In the midst of a Tory neighborhood, near Cornwallis, and with more 
prisoners than they could safely spare guards to watch, the mountaineers were seri- 
ously embarassed with their success. Taking the flints out of the captured arms, 
however, they made the strongest of the prisoners cany them ; marched all day at a 
"present," keeping close watch on the prisoners, and at sundown met the remainder 
of their own force, with whom they kept on westward until the fourteenth. Then, 
halting near the foot of the mountains, they held a court-martial upon sundry of the 
Tory prisoners, atrocious violators of the laws of their own country and of humanity; 
condemned thirty of them to the death which they had richly deserved ; but hung 
only nine of the worst, respiting the remainder. Justice thus executed, Sevier and 
his force crossed the mountains, and put themselves in readiness to defend their 
homes, if necessary; while Campbell, Shelby and Cleveland guarded their prisoners 
northward to secure captivity. 

This bold and splendid achievement was the turn of the tide in the affairs of the 
war. Without it, it is difiicult to see what limits could have been set to Cornwallis's 
victorious progress northward, unopposed as he was by any embodied force, and daily 
re-inforced in camp by Tory levies, while other gangs of those banditti, starting up 
everywhere, were daily riveting the chains of the British authority over all the South 
behind them. 

But the destruction of Ferguson and his host exploded in the midst of Earl Corn- 
wallis's plans like a thunderbolt in a powder magazine. It scattered them to the four 
winds; the few fragments left for reconstruction formed only a frustrated and 
strengthless plan ; and the pause of astonished terror that followed afforded time for 
the dispirited Americans to rally again, and enter upon the series of operations so 
gloriously consummated at Yorktown. 



204 CORNWALLIS IN RETREAT. 

When Cornwallis heard the news, magnified by its journey into the startling story 
that the victorious host of riflemen, three thousand strong, were in full march toward^ 
his camp, he instantly gave up, for the time, his northward march, struck his tents, 
marched back toward the south all night in the greatest confusion, crossed the Ca- 
tawba, and never stopped until he reached Winnsboro', a hundred miles away, where 
he remained, quiet and frightened, for three months. During this respite, the North 
Carolina Whigs rallied and gathered in considerable force. General Smallwood, with 
his veteran and celebrated Maryland corps, and Morgan's riflemen, strengthened 
them. Gates soon joined them with the sad remains of the Southern army. From 
Hillsboro' a thousand Virginians came down. General Nathaniel Greene assumed 
the command of this new force in December, and America was again in a condition to 
face the foe, and maintain with renewed courage the contest which seemed to have 
been decided upon the terrible field of Camden. To these hardy sons of the wilder- 
ness, the mountain men of eastern Tennessee and western Virginia, in all probability, 
is due the glory and the praise of having decided the fate of our arms in the south, 
perhaps of our national independence. 



CHAPTER X. 



SHALL KENTUCKY'S BE THE FIFTEENTH STAR IN THE FLAG? 



KENTUCKY AFTER THE WAR. THE MISSISSIPPI MUST BE FREE. CREATING A STATE. Y0DER"S 

PIONEER VOYAGE. ARRIVAL OF GENERAL WILKINSON. SPANISH PLOTS AND CONSPIRACIES. 

JAY'S TREATY IN KENTUCKY. A WESTERN EMPIRE PROPOSED FRENCH INTRIGUES. 

AARON BURR AND HIS PLANS. KENTUCKY BECOMES A STATE. CHARACTER OF THE EARLY 

KENTUCKIANS. 

AND SO the great valley was wrested from the mother country, and in part from 
the Indian, though many bloody battles were yet to be fought, and nmch 
suffering and privation endured, before the Red Man relinquished his hold of the 
mighty river. Let us, before turning our attention to the genius and characteristics 
of the western people, consider briefly that pregnant period in Avestern histoiy from 
the close of the revolution in 1783, to the failure of Burr's expedition in 1806. 

The end of the long struggle left our ancestors weak and well nigh disabled b}^ the 
unequal contest, and torn by internal dissensions and broils. Threatened by external 
force," the government impoverished to the last degree and as creditless as a notori- 
ous spendthrift, the currency depreciated as far as depreciation Avas possible, all 
things seemed to portend dismemberment and anarchy; a state far Avorse than that 
in AA'hich the commencement of the struggle had found them. But the boundless 
recuperati\'e energies peculiar to our people came to their rescue, and out of the Avild 
chaos of inharmonious elements there arose in course of time the magnificent fabric 
of civic order, symmetry and splendor, beneath whose protection Ave and our chil- 
dren sit. 

We haA^e spoken of the depreciation of the currency. In Virginia, at the close of 
the Revolution, a bo\Ad of rum punch cost fiA'e hundred dollars, in the ordinary cur- 
rencj^ of the time ; in Ncav England, a mug of cider was once bought for one hun- 
dred dollars. "Part of an old shirt" Avas valued, in an inventor}' of an estate, at 
three pounds. Gen. Green Clay, an eminent smweyor and citizen of the State — or 
rather, at that time, the district — of Kentucky, riding a spirited horse from the Avest side 

205 



206 THE NORTHWESTERN TERRITORY CEDED TO THE GENERAL GOVERNMENT. 

of the mountains to the east, disposed of him to one of the French officers attached 
to the army which aided Washington in the taking of Cornwallis, for the moderate 
smii of twenty-seven thousand dollars, which he invested in wild western lands ; and 
these, seventy years ago were worth half a million of dollars. 

The bond which held the colonies together was of the slightest imaginable descrip- 
tion. The old Congress had limited powers, and was afraid to use what it had; rarely 
daring to assume any responsibility. 

What was to be done ? How should the treasury be replenished ? How should 
the credit of the country be established ? Virginia, always the readiest of the sisters 
of the confederacy to do what m her lay to speed any good work, assigned to the 
general government that magnijficent domain which belonged to her by virtue of con- 
quest; which the perseverance and heroism of her sons, inspired and guided by the 
indomitable energy of George Rogers Clarke, had wrested from the power of Britain, 
and made her own property. 

All that vast and splendid country afterward known as the Northwestern Territory 
was thus given freely to the general government, in order that by the sale of its lands 
to emigrants and settlers at such a moderate price as their resources would justify, 
the coffers of the Republic might be filled. Massachusetts had a partial claim to 
what is now the State of Ohio; but always desiring to look before she leaped, always 
keeping a sharp eye on the main chance, she waited to see what would be the end of 
the matter; so that it was not until 1786, two years after Virginia had given to the 
United States what formed afterward the States of Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, AVis- 
consin, and the greater part of Ohio, that Massachusetts surrendered her claim to 
the western country, by cession to the general government. Last of all, old Con- 
necticut, who held with a still more unrelaxing grasp to her reserved territory in the 
northeastern corner of Ohio, at length became convinced of the propriety and justice 
of ceding her claim, and did so. 

Thus, the whole of that wide domain passed into the possession of the Federal gov- 
ernment. At first, however, it was of comparatively slight use to the people. The 
Indians held most of it; and although hostilities upon their part were suspended for 
a short time immediately after the close of the Revolution, yet, as their late ally, the 
government of Great Britain, made no terms for them in the treaty of 1783, but left 
them to care for themselves, and as the United States claimed that territory by right 
of conquest, without stipulation or provision for compensation to them, granting them 



THE MISSISSIPPI MUST BE FREE. 207 

only slight reserves for residence and hunting-grounds, their ire was again awakened, 
and their vengeance was ready to descend upon the frontiers. 

Further, Spain and France had aided our country in the struggle against our mother ; 
but after that struggle was ended, and we had achieved our independence, they asked 
to be remembered and compensated for their expenditure in our behalf. Both were 
in quest of territory. Both were jealous of the predicted power and greatness of 
the new nation. Both desired, in common with Great Britain, to restrict our fathers 
within certain limits. France and England joining, desired to make the Ohio River 
our northern boundary. Spain, on another side, desired to keep us east of the Mis- 
sissippi, and north of the Yazoo, that she might retain possession of the district ly- 
ing west and south of those rivers, for her oAvn occupancy. One difficulty after 
another was thrown in the way of our national diplomacy. The old confederate Con- 
gress found itself unequal to the difficulties of the emergency. It is not necessary to 
detail the history of the convention for the formation of the Constitution ; the theory 
or powers of the new government; nor the policy of the cabinet of George Washing- 
ton, with its two poles of dissimilar character and creed, by way of equipoise — Thomas 
Jefferson, representing the Republican, or Democratic, and Alexander Hamilton the 
Federal principle. The great diplomatist of this adminstration was John Jay — for 
intellect, patriotism, clear-sighted subtlety, nobility of purpose, force of character, 
and lofty purity of morals, one of the proudest names which our annals can boast. 
Jay, at this time, charged with the duty of negotiating treaties with England and 
Spain, found himself in a most perplexing situation. Spain claimed the right of own- 
ership to the Mississippi River ; denied the right of the western people to navigate 
that river, and was about to close all the ports upon the Gulf against our commerce, 
and thus cut off the people west of the mountains from all opportunity for foreign 
exchanges. Enormous crops of all kinds grew in their fertile fields, but there was 
no market in which they could sell. They had pressing needs, but there was no 
market wdiere they could buy. Their only opportunities for obtaining the most nec- 
essary merchandise were by mule tracks and pathways across the Alleghany IMount- 
ains, from Baltimore and Frederick. Long trains of these animals, Avith pack-saddles 
laden with salt, iron and lead, and whatever else was in demand among the emi- 
grants and settlers of the west, were daily traveling the mountain roads at all sea- 
sons of the year. 

But this meager system of exchange offered no prospect either of speedy wealth to 
those engaged in it, or of present or future adequacy to the w^ants of the w^estern 
settlements, now beginning to increase so vigorously. 



208 CREATING A STATE. 

Already the feeling had become definite and universal among the western set- 
tlers, that the free navigation of the Mississipj)! must be secured; when, in 1784, an 
assembly of the people of Kentucky was summoned at Danville, by Col. Logan, one 
of their oldest and ablest pioneers, to consult upon measures for opposing an invasion 
by the southern Indians, which he had learned was in contemplation. This rumor 
proved to be incorrect; but the assembly, which contained a large number of in- 
fluential and intelligent citizens who had come together under the impression that 
it was intended to wage an energetic warfare upon the Indians, took occasion to ex- 
amine the existing laws applicable to the raising of a military force ; when, to the 
common surprise and chagrin, it plainly appeared that since the end of the war 
there was no existing authority to call out men for any expedition against Indians or 
any other enemy, nor even to assemble volunteers or militia for the defense of their 
homes and hearths. Open on three sides to the incursions of a ferocious and active 
enemy, their hands were effectually tied, and no defense left them except such purely 
voluntary aid as might be given without the countenance of law. Such a state of 
things w^as unendurable ; and even in time of safety the growing and highspirited 
district of Kentucky, now composed of three large counties, could not but be restive 
under the tardy and difficult administration of a government acting at Eichmond, 
and separated from the western settlements by so many hundred miles of mountain 
and forest. The assembly was unanimously and earnestly of opinion that Kentucky 
should have a government independent of Virginia; but having no legal authority, 
recommended a convention of delegates, one to be chosen from each militia com- 
pany, to assemble in December of the same year, to consider the question of separa- 
tion from Virginia. 

This convention assembled, and was the first of a series of eight, successively 
called by the Kentuckians — unused to the management of representative machinery 
— or required by the Assembly of Virginia or by Congress, in the course of the pro- 
tracted legislation and negotiation that lasted for seven tedious years, before the 
final Act of 1791 constituted Kentucky a State. During all this long period, the 
feeble and disorganized' community beyond the mountains was vexed by a seemingly 
interminable series of conventions ; by uncertainty and fear respecting its fate ; by in- 
cessant and cruel hostilities from Indians and English ; by party spirit of the violent 
and reckless type which so commonly curses newly settled States; and by the artful 
and secret intrigues of agents and partisans of the court of Spain. 



yoder's pioneer voyage. 



209 



As early as May, 1782, bold Jacob Yoder had built his great broad horn at Red- 
stone (now Brownsville) on the Monongahela, and as a pioneer of western commerce 
had safely carried it, freighted with flour, down the Ohio and Mississippi, to New 
Orleans. With the sales of his cargo, peltries were bought that had come in tribute 




JOHN FILSON. 

From a miniature in an old book that once belonged to him. 
Now in possession ol R. T. Durrett, Louisville, Ky. 

to the king, buffaloes from remote regions beyond the post of St. Louis, in the 
northern Louisiana, and beaver from the unnamed streams of Iowa and Wisconsin. 
The furs sold at Havana purchased cigars which were freighted to Philadelphia, and 
enriched with the rewards of his expedition, the successful adventurer returned 
14 



210 GENERAL JAMES WILKINSON. 

across the Alleghanies and past Fort Pitt to his home, where the little hamlet of 
Barclstown nestled on the banks of the Beech Fork of Salt River. 

The voyage of Jacob Yoder and its pecuniary results had fixed all western thought 
upon the riches that awaited the free navigation of the Mississippi and an unob- 
structed outlet to the sea. Interposing mountains and the adverse current of the 
Ohio, prohibited carrying eastward to the Atlantic marts the ponderous barter of the 
New West. Through hundreds of weary miles, through canebrakes and forests, lay 
the Wilderness Eoad, the only communication with Virginia, skirting the streams 
toward their sources, winding through the passes of the Cumberland Mountains, and 
threading the long furrows that Nature has plowed from northeast to southwest be- 
tween the ranges of the Blue Ridge. Over such a road nothing could be carried 
except within the limits of a load for a pack-horse. The people of Kentucky were 
plainly shut up to a single route to one port. The port for their commerce was New 
Orleans and the route was the "River Mississippi." 

In 1784, while all these disturbing influences were actively at work, there crossed 
the mountains from Maryland a distinguished citizen and soldier of that State, who 
had played a conspicuous part in the Revolution, General James Wilkinson; a man 
long afterward intimately connected with all the principal political movements in 
the West. He had been aid-de-camp to General Gates; had figured with credit 
in many of the struggles of the Revolution; and at the conclusion, finding his for- 
tunes impaired and his finances in so complicated a condition that with his present 
means there were no hopes of remedy, he directed a sagacious eye to the growing 
West; and deciding promptly upon a removal, came with a stock of goods to Lex- 
ington, in Kentucky, for the purpose of establishing himself in trade. His fine 
personal appearance, agreeable and dignified address — his tact and ingenuity, knowl- 
edge of and adaptation to human nature, and subtlety of speech — his powers of 
insinuation and plausibility — his eloquence, whether spoken or written, equally 
adapted to the popular level — all these endowments placed him at once in the high- 
est position in the country. He was elected a member of several of the organizing 
conventions ; became a prominent political character at once ; and when the question 
of the navigation of the Mississippi absorbed a large portion of the attention of the 
Kentuckians, this bold man embarked upon a hazardous adventure. He procured a 
flat-boat, loaded it with tobacco, descended the Ohio and Mississippi, and depositing 
his cargo in New Orleans, opened negotiations with the Spanish government. The 
secret portion of his correspondence with Governor Miro and Baron de Carondelet, 



WILKINSON S RETURN TO KENTUCKY. 



211 



later governor at New Orleans, has of late been made public. General Wilkinson 
returned to Kentucky and informed the inhabitants that he had made certain over- 
tures to the Spanish authorities; that he had acquired for himself by judicious 
negotiation, the right of deposit for all his merchandise, be it of what sort soever, 
in the government warehouses of the capital of Louisiana ; and that he had secured 
a permission to trade there for a given number of years. He began at once to pur- 
chase all the products of Kentucky for the purpose of prosecuting this trade. He 




GENERAL JAMES WILKINSON. 



hinted furthermore that Miro had informed him, under proper instructions from the 
Spanish government, that if the people of Kentucky would sever their relations with 
the older States and erect themselves into an independent territory or State, Spain 
would negotiate with them, making such treaties as should be most desirable and 
agreeable to them, relative to outlets for trade or otherwise. 

This was the first hint the people of Kentucky received in regard to this matter. 
Wilkinson for some time continued his trade with New Orleans, and began to lay the 



212 SPANISH PLOTS AND CONSPIRACIES. 

foundation of an immense fortune. Carondelet, who had succeeded Miro as gov- 
ernor, not satisfied with his negotiations with Wilkinson, sent one Power to approach 
some of the other distinguished citizens of the district — for a district it still re- 
mained. This man came to Benjamin Sebastian, a prominent lawyer, and afterward 
a distino-uished judge, and laid before him certain schemes for the furtherance of the 
plan which had been already submitted to Wilkinson; and which insured to the peo- 
ple of Kentucky the free navigation of the Mississippi, and the right of deposit at 
New Orleans for any number of years that they might desire. While Miro was in- 
triguing with Wilkinson, M. Gardoqui, the Spanish minister accredited to our gov- 
ernment, then in New York, entered into treaty stipulations, with a similar object, 
and in a secret manner, with Mr. Brown, territorial delegate to Congress from Ken- 
tucky, and subsequently its representative when admitted as a State. 

And while the uneasy excitement about the secret plans of Spain was spreading in 
Kentucky, and the more open propositions of Gardoqui were almost published by 
Brown — while the people were also vexed and harassed with their series of conven- 
tions to no purpose — the object of the Spanish court was nearly gained by Mr. Jay. 
This negotiator laid before the Confederate Congress a proposal not to give up the 
principle of the right to navigate the Mississippi, but to cede the exercise of it for 
twenty years, in consideration of certain advantages offered in return. The seven 
Northeastern States earnestly favored the scheme ; but nine States being required to 
adopt it, it failed. While it was in agitation, however, the wrath of the Kentuckians 
grew so hot against the New Englanders, for this selfish disregard of the interests of 
the West, that they became almost ready to sever all connection with the Union, and 
to set up an independent sovereignty within the great valley. 

Had this project prevailed in Congress, it is probable that the after-progress of 
this country Mould have been much hampered and entangled by the indefinite com- 
plications which would have sprung from the establishment of a rival commonwealth 
beyond the mountains. As it was, the bitter feelings which the scheme engendered 
toward New England remained strong for many years, and the name of Jay was for 
a long time almost infamous in the popular mind of Kentucky, as having been con- 
nected Avith what they apprehended to be a treacherous and selfish scheme to sac- 
rifice them and their future for the advantage of a distant section of the country. 
Yet Jay had never for a moment contemplated resigning the right to navigate the 
Mississippi. Indeed, he would have been the very last man in the nation to yield a 
single jot of principle or of justice, to inflict a wrong, or to distribute benefits 



SPANISH PLOTS AND CONSPIRACIES. 217 

unfairly. His sole error was the universal one of under-estimating the prospective 
growth of the commonwealths of the valley. So far was he from any improper 
pliancy on this point, that he had steadfastly supported the right to the river naviga- 
tion, both during the war and after it, in defiance of the tortuosities and intrio-ues 
which European diplomacy could bring to bear upon him, and of the large offers of 
pecuniary assistance and the alternative of desertion which were constantly presented 
by the court of Spain as inducements toward the granting of what Ave souo-ht. But 
the masses of the people, however sure their "sober second thought," are little com- 
petent to judge of the conduct of a negotiator in a foreign land, in difficult times, 
who must look at the needs and rights, not of one section of his country, but of all ; 
and though Jay, now a historical character, has long justly held a lofty and honored 
place among our Eevolutionary heroes, in the hearts of Kentuckians, as well as all 
others of his countrymen, his spotless name was long a by-word and a hissing among 
them. 

So guarded were the words and actions of the advocates of an independent gov- 
ernment in Kentucky, that even now it cannot be demonstratively proved that thej^ 
had actually agreed with Spain to establish it. Still it is known that one or two of 
them received Spanish pensions ; and there can be no reasonable doubt that some 
prominent men did earnestly wish such an independent government, probably from 
the double desire for political power and position for themselves, and whatever pecu- 
niary gains they could extort from the Spanish government. It is certain that they 
pushed their plan to the furthest point possible without instant ruin to their own 
prospects in Kentucky. 

We proceed with the story of Spanish intrigues, though out of strict chronological 
order. Carondelet's negotiation with Judge Sebastian, through Thomas Power, was 
brought to an end in 1795, by the treaty of October of that year, with Spain, which 
secured the navigation of the Mississippi. Two years afterward Power came again 
to Kentucky with a plan from Carondelet for forming an independent government 
west of the mountains. The public mind was to be prepared by newspaper articles; 
the scheme aided by Spain with men and arms. This proposition was submitted 
to Sebastian, to Innes, to Nicholas, and to Wilkinson, and was decidedly discouraged 
by all ; not as treasonable or unpatriotic, but merely as impracticable. Power re- 
turned to New Orleans with this answer; and thus ended, as far as is now known, 
any actual attempts by Spain to dismember our Union. Sebastian, however, received 
a Spanish pension of two thousand dollars a year, until 180(3. 



2^3 A WESTERN EMPIRE PROPOSED. 

The story of the West after the Kevolution would not be complete without some 
reference to the meddlesome and impertinent endeavors of revolutionary France to 
reap in her turn some advantage among the hardy and excitable population of the 
new Trans-Alleghanian State. There was no part of the United States where the 
French nation received more love or more sympathy than in Kentucky. Her gen- 
erous aid in the dark days of our own contest with England were gratefully remem- 
bered; and her magnificent attitude of successful defiance to the banded powers of 
Europe who sought to beat down her newly-established republican government, was 
enthusiastically admired. The crazy democrat, Genet, the French ambassador, 
deluded by the triumphant progress which he made through the country, believing 
that he could wield the moral and physical power of the United States in aid of 
France in the contest between herself and England and Spain, sent four emissaries 
to Kentucky to raise two thousand men and appoint a general, descend the Ohio 
and Mississippi in boats, attack the Spaniards in Louisiana, and bring them under 
French authority. General George Rogers Clarke, now considerably fallen in social 
and political position, was so imprudent as to consent to receive the supreme com- 
mand of this chimerical army, with the long-tailed title of "Major-General in the 
Armies of France, and Commander-in-Chief of the French Revolutionary Legions on 
the Mississippi." The work of enlistment went vigorously on. Democratic clubs, 
humble imitations of the Jacobin clubs of France, were established over Kentucky, 
and o-rcw rampant with denunciations of the Federal Government ; of the Spanish 
treachery in closing the Mississippi ; of the vile tricks which Washington and Jay 
were contriving to unite this country and England against France ; of the tyrannical 
excise act. The new State was in a ferment of disloyal and fanatic excitement. 
There was much correspondence between the Federal and State ofiicers respecting 
these military schemes. President Washington, Governor Shelby, and General 
Wayne wrote backward and forward. Depeau, one of the French agents, wrote an 
extraordinary letter to Governor Shelby, in very French English, intended as a 
courteous announcement of his business, and an invitation to join in it. Shelby was 
even so much swayed from his usual straightforward common sense as to write to 
Gen. Wayne, in substance, that he had great doubts whether he could consistently 
endeavor to stop any Kentuckian or Kentuckians who should merel}^ set out to leave 
the State with arms and provisions. Washington, who could not see the force of 
such reasoning, laconically ordered Wayne to garrison Fort Massac, on the Ohio, 
and to do what else might be necessary to stop this muster of fools. The Democrats, 



THE FIRST STEP TOWARD NULLIFICATION. 219 

on this, grew more excited than ever. They called a convention and passed some 
resolutions full of bitter enmity to the general government; and this convention took 
measures to call another, which squinted hard in the old direction of separation from 
the Union. But just in the nick of time the news came that the French Republic had 
recalled Genet, and disapproved and disavowed his acts. This pricked the bubble. 
Lachaise and Depeau, the chief French agents, instantly lost their authority, and 
disappeared. Gen. Clarke lost his long title and his military command. The officers 
and soldiers of the intended army lost the generous grants which their French friends 
had lavishly promised them, of lands which they did not own. And the public 
mind, losing so many and prominent subjects for excitement, grew at once quite calm. 
While Carondelet's schemes were still proceeding, and while the democratic and 
federal quarrel was yet hot and fierce in Kentucky, the unpopular administration of 
Washington was succeeded by the actually hateful one of Adams. In the new gov- 
ernment the people of Kentucky had little confidence, and entertained for it still 
less respect; for they were convinced that it was unfriendly to them. Nevertheless, 
Kentucky had been admitted as a State ; and a treaty had been formed with Spain, 
by which the right of navigating the Mississippi for three years had been obtained, 
as well as the right to deposit merchandise in New Orleans for purposes of com- 
merce. But before this period expired, the Spanish governor of New Orleans shut 
the port, and refused the permission agreed upon by the treaty. For even after the 
organization of the new State, the scheme of wooing her from her attachment to 
the Union was still contemplated. Then came the alien and sedition laws — ill-judged 
and oppressive enactments — which awakened tumult and confusion throughout the 
countr}^, especially in Kentucky and Virginia. The former, irritated by their enact- 
ment, took the first step in that system of nullification afterward put f prward again 
by South Carolina. In a series of resolutions passed by her Legislature in 1798-9, 
she denied the right of the general government to interfere in matters of private 
State rights and authority. Perhaps no State was so devoted to the principles of 
Jefferson ; it might be said, no people ever worshiped a statesman as did the Ken- 
tuckians Jefferson. And accordingly, they repudiated the doctrines of Adams and 
his Congress, and passed a set of resolutions drawn up by Jefferson with his own 
hand for the purpose. 

Thus floAved on the muddy, crooked stream of politics ; Spain intriguing still ; 
England dispatching her emissaries from the North, with the hope of harrassing the 
Kentucky people — and they yet retaining, though not without doubt and difficulty, 
integrity toward the Union. 



220 AARON BURR AND HIS PLANS. 

One more incident of the period must suffice. In the early years of the present 
century there suddenly arose from the midst of peace and security a danger that 
threatened anew the existence of the country, by aiming at the disruption of its ter- 
ritory. This was the result of certain plans of a man who had served with credit in 
the Revolutionary War, rising to the rank of colonel. Of a singularly acute and 
shrewd intellect, fascinating address, perfect courtesy of manner, a quick reader of 
the faults and follies of all about him, he Avas as haughtily and unscrupulously ambitious 
as Lucifer himself. Long a most able and successful politician ; once a Vice-President, 
after failing of the Presidency itself only by a few votes; fallen, however, in con- 
sequence of that failure in the esteem of his party ; the murderer of the greatest 
statesman our country ever boasted; but now an outlaw by proclamation, bankrupt 
in fortune and in political hopes, he was ready for any design, how bad or desperate 
soever, which exhibited any chance of regaining wealth or power. For between fame 
and notoriety, Aaron Burr seemed to have no choice. 

Burr's plans were masked by a pretended enterprise for colonizing a large tract of 
wild lands among the distant rivers and marshes of upper Louisiana, in which he 
held a nominal interest under the Spanish grant to the Baron de Bastrop. His actual 
design he probably never fully revealed to any person. But the common belief is 
well founded that he intended to attack the Spanish possession, and to carve out for 
himself a principality or magnificent estate somewhere in the West, between the 
Mississippi River and the Isthmus of Darien. Whether his empire was to be Mex- 
ico, Texas, or Louisiana, and how far his scheme included the territory of the United 
States, will probably never be known. 

Burr visited the West in two successive years, 1805 and 1806 ; winning friends 
and partisans everywhere, and by that strange personal magnetism which was, per- 
haps, his most remarkable characteristic, becoming especially a favorite among the 
ladies. Upon his second visit, however, he was arrested at the suit of Col. Joseph 
Hamilton Daviess, then United States attorney; who, almost alone among the whole 
population of Kentucky, was profoundly convinced of the treasonableness of Burr's 
designs. Daviess was famous as an orator; but far more deserving of renown is the 
impregnable moral courage and lofty rock-like steadfastness to his convictions, which 
he showed in the series of vigorous endeavors he made under circumstances the most 
discouraging, to insure the trial of a man whom he believed a criminal. He was one 
of the very few federalists in Kentucky; and as such, all his public acts were of 
course bitterly censured, and his motives continually questioned. In the present in- 



ORATORICAL BATTLE BETWEEN CLAY AND DAVIESS. 221 

stance, however, the bold attorney had not only to stand up under the weight of this 
political odium, which his powerful shoulders had already easily supported for years, 
but under the accumulated storm of obloquy, indignation and ridicule, which was 
liberally hurled against him from all sides, for his persevering attacks upon a man of 
national reputation, whose personal and political friends filled Kentucky, and who 
numbered among those who were either his very partners in crime, or his zealous fol-. 
lowers in a supposed justifiable political enterprise, numbers of the influential citizens 
of the district. 

Did space permit, an interesting account might be given of the exciting legal con- 
test which began on the third of November, 1806, before the United States District 
Court, of which Harry Innes, previously a fellow-intriguer of Benjamin Sebastian 
with the Spaniards, was the judge. A motion by Daviess, for process to bring Burr 
up to answer a charge of misdemeanor in organizing a military expedition within the 
United States against a friendly power, opened the case. The motion was denied, 
but was granted a short time afterward, at Burr's own request. Twice, a day was 
fixed for the trial, and each time the resolute attorney found himself, to his keen 
mortification, obliged to ask an adjournment on account of the absence of an essen- 
tial witness. .The second time Daviess requested the court to keep the jury impan^ 
eled until he could bring up the recusant by capias; and while Burr, who had on 
the former occasion made a dignified and most telling address to the Court, remained 
silent, Daviess was opposed by Henry Clay, Burr's counsel ; and for hours together 
these celebrated orators battled with each other upon the legal question, but illum- 
inated and pointed their arguments with brilliant rhetoric and sharp and personal as- 
saults and rejoinders, which held the crowded court-room in the profoundest silence, 
Innes refused to keep the jury without business; and Daviess, to gain a little time, 
sent to them an indictment against the absent witness, John Adair, which they found 
not a true bill. He then moved to compel his attendance by attachment, but was 
again baflled; and the case going to the grand jury, with the witnesses then present, 
Burr was triumphantly acquitted by the throwing out of Daviess' bill. The friends 
of the victorious plotter gave a splendid ball in Frankfort in honor of the occasion, 
and Daviess' friends, rallying, followed it by another in his honor. 

Burr had secured the services of Clay only by the most sweeping and enor- 
mous falsehood. He assured him in the strongest and broadest terms that he neither 
entertained views, nor possessed friends nor means intended or calculated to disturb 
the government in any matter whatever ; and that he had signed no military com- 



222 




BURR S FLIGHT FROM MISSISSIPPI . 



223 



mission, and owned no military stores or weapons; and to this vast lie he pledged 
his honor. The tremendous impudence of the fabrication will appear, when it is re- 
membered that his military preparations had begun four months before, and that at 
the very moment of making it, the advance of his army, organized, armed and pro- 
visioned, was on Blennerhassett's Island, on the frontiers of Kentucky; or even de- 
scending the Ohio. 

It was not long before the delusion which had so long obscured the Kentuckians 
was thoroughly disj^elled, and they did justice to the penetration and resolute perse- 
verance of Daviess, whose reputation throughout 
the West rose to a higher pitch than ever. 

Burr, leaving Frankfort at the conclusion of 
the trial, joined his forces, descended the Ohio 
and Mississippi, was arrested and his men dis- 
persed near Natchez. He was taken to Washing- 
ton, the capital of the Mississippi Territory, and 
without difficulty found friends who gave bail 
in ten thousand dollars for his appearance in 
court. He appeared, moved unsuccessfully for 
a discharge, and, apprehensive of the conse- 
quiences of a removal before a higher court, 
fled away eastward by night. 

On the 18th of February, 1807, late at night, 
Nicholas Perkins, register, and Thomas Malone, 
clerk of the court, were playing backgammon in 
their cabin, in the little village of Wakefield, 
on the western verge of Alabama, when a knock 
was heard at the door, and on opening it, two travelers inquired of Perkins the route 
to Col. Hinson's. While he answered that it was seven miles away, by a difficult 
path and over a dangerous creek, his companion threw more pine-wood on the fire, 
and the blaze enabled the inquisitive register to observe that the speaker had a keen, 
striking face, and eyes that flashed and sparkled with wonderful brilliancy ; that he 
wore an old hat and coarse clothes, but remarkably handsome boots. The travelers 
rode on, and Perkins instantly-assured his companion that the inquirer was Aaron 
Burr, and urged him to go with himself at once to Hinson and procure his arrest. 
Malone declined. The register, hurrying off to the sheriff, one Brightwell, awakened 




AARON BURR. 



224 BUER RECAPTURED AND TAKEN TO RICHMOND. 

him; and they set out at once for Hmson's, which they reached after a severe 
journey. Perkins thought best to stay in the woods, lest Burr should recognize him, 
and sent Brightwell into the house, who satisfied himself that they were right, but, 
for some reason, delayed to take any steps for the capture. Perkins, after waiting shiv- 
ering in the woods until he was tired, and hearing nothing of the sheriff, now made the 
best of his way to Fort Stoddard, on the Tombigbee, commanded by Captain Edmund 
P. Gaines, where he arrived at sunrise. Gaines, on learning the news, at once set 
out with a file of men, and about nine o'clock met Burr, with his companion, to- 
gether with Brightwell, the recreant sheriff, who seems to have been fascinated with 
Burr, and now to have been guiding him on the road to Pensacola ; from which point 
he would have sailed for Europe, to endeavor there to obtain new. means for his 
intended expedition. Notwithstanding the vehement eloquence with which Burr 
denounced the proclamations and proceedings for his arrest, and the ingenious mode 
in which he enlarged upon the responsibility of stopping travelers, the straight- 
forward young soldier marched him to the fort, and retained him there for some 
time, while he prepared to send him prisoner to Virginia. During this time, Burr 
made himself a favorite with an invalid brother of the commander, with Mrs. Captain 
Gaines, an accomplished and lovely woman, daughter of Judge Harry Toulmin, and 
with every one he met. 

After some weeks Gaines succeeded in forming an escort to his mind, consisting 
of Colonel Nicholas Perkins, who had caused the arrest, two United States 
soldiers, and seven or eight men chosen by Perkins as especially reliable, energetic 
and unseducible ; and after a long and most fatiguing journey, all the hardships and 
dangers of which Burr endured without a complaint, they reached the settled country 
of the Atlantic seaboard. While passing through South Carolina, where Burr was 
still popular, and of which his son-in-law, Alston, was governor, he attempted to 
escape, leaping from his horse and appealing to the citizens whom he found assembled 
at a merry-making at one of the towns on the road. But Perkins, a tall and athletic 
man, seized Burr and flung him bodily into the saddle, and with one guard holding 
his horse's bridle, and others urging the beast from behind, they hurried him onward 
out of reach. In the revulsion of his disappointment at this failure, Burr, ordinarily 
so inaccessible to fear or sorrow, for once gave way to a violent outburst of grief, 
and even wept like a child; and one of his guards, a kind-hearted man, wept with 
him. Burr was safely conveyed the remainder of the distance toEichmond; the 
story of his trial there, and his subsequent varying fortunes, his obscure life, his 
unhappy death, is sufficiently familiar. 



KENTUCKY S LONG STRUGGLE FOR STATE-HOOD. 225 

But to return to the statesmen and law-makers of Kentucky : 

In the convention at Danville, through all these years of iDeril, uttermost need 
and importunate yearning on the one side, reserve and indifference — not to say disdain — 
born of ignorance which called itself wisdom, on the other, one cannot but be deeply 
impressed by the noble moderation, sobriety, self-command and statesmanlike sa- 
gacity, both in word and act, exhibited by these men of the border. Their methods 
were as deliberate and orderly, their procedure and forms as legal and parliamentary, 
as if the meetings were held at St. Stephen's and presided over by a speaker in bao-, 
wig and robes, supported by sword and mace, instead of a gathering of men clad in 
buckskin, each armed with a rifle, tomahawk and scalping-knife, seated on puncheon 
slabs in a log cabin. Their steadfast devotion to law and order, even when bitterest 
need would seem to justify lawless action, may be seen in the conduct of the first con- 
vention, as well as in all that followed. It was a muster of militia officers, to devise 
ways and means to meet and repel a savage foray. It was found that under the laws 
of Virginia they had no right to act, except by authority from a Legislature five 
hundred miles away. Upon learning this, sore as were their straits, instead of plead- 
ing that the end would justify the means of taking the law into their own hands, they 
quietly adjourned, after issuing a call for another convention in due form. Nowhere 
else has been seen a more signal display of the subjugation of private will to public 
order, of the ingrained love and respect for rightful authority and the sovereignty of 
law, than that shown by these bold foresters, every one of whom had taken his life 
in his hand to found and uphold usages and customs so time-honored that the mem- 
ory of man runneth not to the contrary. How grievous were the delays in recog- 
nizing their rights, both by the Mother State and the general Congress, and how just 
were their causes for irritation, may be seen in this example, one out of many. 
Their third convention was held in the Autumn of 1785. By the warrant of Vir- 
ginia's action, it seemed as if the prize of an independent organization of Kentucky 
were within their grasp, but a quorum could not be had, because many of the mem- 
bers were out on the war-path, with Clarke on the Wabash, and Logan on the Scioto, 
to punish the Indians and their aiders and abettors for murderous raids, and thus secure 
the safety of their homes. Thus doing the duty that lay nearest to them, they were 
deprived of their coveted boon. Indeed, from the very first, it seemed as if England, 
as lord paramount, and then the colonies and States east of the mountains, were bent 
upon a course of injustice — not to say cruelty — towards the West and its pioneer set- 
tlers. The royal proclamation of George the Third, in 1763, forbade men to settle 
15 



226 Kentucky's long struggle for state-hood. 

in the coimtiy west of the mountains; and after the treaty with the Iroquois, made 
by Sir William Johnson, at Fort Stanwix (now Eome, N. Y.,) in 1768, it was de- 
clared that the title to lands in those parts could onl}^ be had from the Crown by men 
who had served in the old French war. When the colonies asserted their indepen- 
dence, eight years later, and claimed to be heirs of right as successors to the king, it 
was held by most of the public men of the thirteen original States that the tops of 
the Alleghanies should be their western limit, that it was both impolitic and unwise 
to encouracfe or even allow settlements in lands west of the mountains, that it would 
be suicidal, while the war was going on and the strong right arm of every fighting 
man was needed east of the mountains, to permit the drain of their life-blood which 
would be caused by any colonization upon the Ohio or its tributaries. Moreover, 
when Spain became our ally in the struggle, it was held to be a matter of the first 
importance to secure and maintain her friendship. Her distinctive avowal that the 
people of the Atlantic slope must not think of entering the valley to make settle- 
ments there, that she should reserve the exclusive right of navigating the Mississippi 
River, was generally acquiesced in. As late as 1789, as eminent, and practical a 
statesman as Governor George Clinton, of New York, in a conversation with Gar- 
doqui, the Spanish minister, stated that "the attempt to maintain establishments at 
so great a distance, by withdrawing the population of the nearer States, would be a 
national error." The year previous, Gardoqui had informed his government that 
his arrangement with Jay would have the support of the Atlantic States, especially 
in the matter of occluding the Mississippi, because the leading men of those States 
clearly realized that the growth of the West would drain the population of the East. 

Patrick Henry, Thomas Jefferson, and George Washington, seemed to have been 
the only statesmen of the time with clearness and breadth of vision enough to grasp 
the situation, and it was owing to their sympathy and support that the frontiersmen 
won Kentucky and wrested the old northwest from the hand of Britain, notwith 
standing the menace of Spain, backed by France: "We furthermore expect you to 
prohibit the inhabitants of your confederacy from making any attempt toward set- 
tling on or conquering any portion of the territory west of the back settlements of 
the former British provinces," and the assertion that she (Spain) w-as the sole pro- 
prietor of the Mississippi River. 

Through many years, as before stated, webs of intrigue were woven by Spain, 
France and England, to ensnare the backwoodsman and keep Kentucky out of the 
Union. M. de Gardoqui, the Spanish ambassador, near our government, and Miro, 



SPANISH SCHEMES. 



227 



the Spanish Governor at New Orleans, each had a scheme looking to his own per- 
sonal advantage and to the separation of the West from the East by the erection of 




FINDLEY, THE DISCOVEKEK OK KENTUCKY, 



Kentucky into an independent commonwealth, or by uniting it to the Floridas or Loui- 
siana, thus bringing it into subjection to the Spanish crown. Seductive offers to this 



228 CHARACTER OF THE EARLY KENTUCKIANS. 

end were made by Gardoqui to the Hon. John Brown, Kentucky's representative in 
Cono-ress. Miro made a private treaty with General James Wilkinson, and through 
him and other secret agents offered lures and golden baits to the leading citizens of 
Kentucky, and made large promises of advantageous trade w ith New Orleans, to se- 
duce them from their fealty to the Union. France had her agents in the territory, 
and after the close of the Revolutionary War, Lord Dorchester, in Canada, sent Dr. 
John Connolly, under pretext of looking after his lands in Kentucky which had been 
confiscated during the war because he had sided with the Mother Country in the 
struo-irle and attempted to take up arms against the colonies ; but reall}^ to sound the 
leading men of the border and gain them over to the English cause. To show the 
men of the West what Spain was willing to do for them, her representatives granted 
to Colonel Morgan, a citizen of New Jersey who had distinguished himself in the 
Revolution, a body of land two millions of acres in area, in what are now Missouri 
and Arkansas, and freedom of trade with New Orleans, on condition that he would 
found the Colony of New Madrid, which w^as done. Notwithstanding the bitter war 
of crimination and recrimination which raged in Kentucky so many years in new^s- 
papers, pamphlets, on the stump, in libel suits, before courts, in personal broils and 
encounters, but few men of prominence were proved to have been in the pay of 
Spain. Never was the fidelity of citizens put to a severer test than was that of the 
Kentuckians from 1784 to 1806, and never was the trial more steadfastly endured 
and fealty to country more nobly vindicated than in their case. I cannot do better 
here than to use the language of John Mason Brown, whose early death was an irre- 
parable loss to good letters, his State, and the country at large: "Amid all their 
discouragements, hope and reverence for law never failed those men. Through 
the tedious series of eight disheartening conventions, called with all formality and 
prolonged through weary years, they sought in patience and without resentment at 
repeated failure, the right of statehood. As they carried the arms of their country 
westward, so they carried with them that spirit which magnifies the law and teaches 
men to value the self imposed restraints that freemen alone can devise." 

The men who lived amid the dangers of that perilous time, who founded the em- 
pire of the West, who builded the first commonwealth beyond the AUeghanies, were 
of strong motives and hardy ways. They merit a judgment as ro'bust as was their 
own nature. They dealt with great problems and great dangers. They w ere ter- 
ribly in earnest, and they became, if they were not at first such as strong in opinion 
as they were in action. 



CHARACTER OF THE EARLY KENTUCKIANS. 229 

Those who in these quieter times explore the history of those earher years, will 
find much that no calm judgment can approve. Suspicion and detraction were rife. 
Denunciation of motives was frequent. Unjust judgments were common among 
them. But if ever there was a time when men might have differed, not only honestly 
but hotly, when every allowance ought to be made for misconceptions of each other's 
motives and misunderstandings of each other's characters, it was during the earlier 
years of our national life. A new government, a vast countrj^, unsettled interests, 
wide spread privation and unreasonable hopes, ambition in high places, restlessness 
everywhere, and great political ditficulties, both at home and abroad, surely all these 
elements must have combined in a public life which requires for its proper apprecia- 
tion not only wise and stern judgment, but that better and gentler teacher, the charity 
which believeth no evil, and hopeth all things. That the men of the day misjudged 
themselves and their contemporaries, and that they spoke bitterly one of another, is 
natural enough, for they were mortal. "What they did, they did altogether; the 
humblest of them doing much that we should imitate, the highest, much that we 
should avoid." * 

The sober judgment of their posterity will not tolerate the thought that the men 
who did so well their part in times of peril and responsibility were false to any duty 
of patriotism. It will refuse to question the integrity of Isaac Sheby or Samuel 
McDowell, of John Brown or Harry Innes, of Christopher Greenup or Caleb Wallace, 
for all their acts rebut suspicion, and for the same reason will absolve John 
Edwards, George Muter, and Thomas Marshall from suspicion of disloyal purpose. 

When the element of personal enmit}^ that einbittered its political contests is elim- 
inated from Kentucky's early historj^, there remains for the veneration of another 
age the story of a band of brave, patient, sagacious and patriotic men, devoted to 
their country, deserving well of it — each a laborer in the common cause — each labor- 
ing with honest purpose and efficient zeal to secure the establishment and the per- 
petuity of a great, a powerful, and a happy commonwealth. 



Trescott's Diplomatic History of th^ Adminls'.ration of Washington and Adams. 



CHAPTER XI. 



THE OLD NOKTHWEST. 



ITS GRAND PROPORTIONS. AN APPLE OF DISCORD. CONFLICTING CHARTERS. A NATION'S 

FATE HANGS UPON IT. THE COMPROMISE. THE NORTHWEST LAND ORDINANCE. FOREVER 

FREE. SETTLEMENT. FIVE GREAT STATES CARVED OFT OF IT. A NATIONAL ALMONER. 

HAD the limits of the Colony of Virginia, according to the King James 
charter of 1609, been maintained, her bomidary line would strike the Bay 
of Monterey on the south and Alaska on the north, and would include the heart 
of the nation. Her southern boundary would have been the thirty-fourth paral- 
lel ; her northern, a line stretching from a point on the sea coast two hundred 
miles north of Old Point Comfort, at about the fortieth parallel, northwest to the Pa- 
cific, and including nearly all of that vast area later known as the Northwest Territory, 
and now forming the magnificent States of Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Wis- 
consin, and half of the State of Minnesota. The influence of this and others of the 
old colonial charters upon our national existence, and especially upon the destinies of 
the Northwest, was so potent and far reaching that a brief account of them should 
be given before passing to the more immediate history of our subject. 

Virginia had two charters, both granted by James I. That of 1606, desig- 
nated the sea coast within parallels thirty-four and forty-five, as the place where 
settlements might be made, and provided for two companies, the London Company 
in the south, and the Plymouth Company in the north. This did not satisfy either 
company, and in 1609 the king gave a charter to the London Company alone, in 
which he bounded the colony as follows : 

"Situate, lying and being in that part of America called Virginia, from the point 
of land called Cape or Point Comfort all along the sea coast to the northward two 
hundred miles, and from the said point of Cape Comfort all along the sea coast to 
the southward two hundred miles, and all that space and circuit of land lying from 
the sea coast of the precinct aforesaid up into the land throughout from sea to sea, 
west and northwest;" and also all of the islands within one hundred miles of the 

230 



'FROM SEA TO SEA. 



231 



coast. This was the first of the famous "from sea to sea" charters which made the 
boundary lines of the various colonies confusion worse confounded, and proved a 
fruitful source of contention throughout the colonial period. For instance, three 
theories as to the exact meaning of this charter of Virginia were advanced. One was 
that it meant a semi-circular boundary line running from the northerly point up into 
the land and around to the sea again at the southerly point. A second was that the 
northwest line should be run from the most southerly boundary ou the sea-board up 
into the country until it met the due west line from the most northerly point, forming 
a trianijle thus : 




* NORTHERN BOUNDARY. 



* POINT COMFORT. 



SOUTHERN BOUNDARY. 



Virginia held, however, that the terms west and northwest meant a west line extend- 
ing from the southern point west to the Pacific, and a northwest line extending from 
the most northern point northwest to the Pacific, thus giving the territory the form 
of a vast trapezoid with a frontage on the Atlantic of six degrees of latitude and of 
about thirty on the Pacific. The charter of the Plymouth Company followed ( 1620), 
conveying the land between latitude forty and forty-eight north and from sea to sea 
to that compan3^ The course of the Directors of the London Company did not 
please the King, and in 1624, after due legal proceedings, the Court of King's Bench, 
by a writ of quo warranto, vacated the charter. Virginia's title was still further 
clouded by what was known as the Quebec Act of 1774, which annexed what later 
became the Northwest Territory to the Province of Quebec. 

The patent of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, granted in 1628 by the Council at 
Plymouth, and confirmed b}^ Charles I, March 4th, 1629, defined the boundaries of 
the colony to lie between a point three miles north of Merrimac on the north, and 
a pomt three miles south of the Charles River on the south; also the lands '^-within 
the space of three English miles to the southward of the southernmost point of 
Massachusetts Bay," to extend westward from the Atlantic to the "South Sea" (the 
Pacific), excepting any territory that might be occupied by any other christian prince 



232 CONFLICTING CHARTERS. 

or State, or that might come within the bounds of the London Compan3"s territory. 
New Hampshire never had a royal charter, but the Connecticut charter, granted by 
Charles II, April 23d, 1662, bounded that colony north by the Massachusetts Ba}^ 
Colony, east by Narragansett Bay, south by the sea, "and in longitude as the line 
of the Massachusetts Colony running from east to west, that is to say, from the 
said Narragansett Bay on the east, to the South Sea on the west part, with the islands 




A TRAIKIK SCENE. 



thereunto adjoining." This, it will be scen,was absolute, not even making the reser- 
vation in favor of any christian prince or of the London Company, and cut directly 
through the Dutch settlements on the Hudson, and also through the heart of that 
vast territory embraced by Virginia's northwest line. The charters of Rhode Island 
(1663), New York (1664), New Jersey (1664), Maryland (1632), and Pennsvlvania 
(1681), lacked "the from sea to sea provision." 



CONFLICTING CHARTERS. 233 

The charter of the Carolinas (1663-5) contained it, as did that of Georgia (1732). 
Dehiware could find no claim to western land. New York later sharked up a claim 
by virtue of a deed from the Six Nations. As before remarked, there was quarreling 
over these boundary lines throughout the entire colonial period. Maryland's patent 
conflicted both with Virginia's and Pennsylvania's. Connecticut, in 1753, organized 
her Susquehanna Company which made settlements in the beautiful valley of 
the Susquehanna at Wyoming, within the Connecticut parallels, which grew and 
flourished so bravely that the Connecticut Assembly, in 1776, erected them into a 
county by the name of Westmoreland; all this in the face of bitter protests, and even 
blows, from the settlers under the Pennsylvania charter, who claimed the entire terri- 
tory as their own. Connecticut was also engaged in a fierce dispute with New York 
over her Avestern boundary, and with Rhode Island over her eastern, and a brave 
triangular quarrel was being waged by New York, Massachusetts and New Hampshire 
over the "New Hampshire grants," as they were called, comprising the present State 
of Vermont, which was claimed by all three. 

Virginia, as we have seen, like Connecticut, entered upon the territories claimed 
under her charter and took possession of them. 

Such was the condition of affairs when war with the Mother Country called the 
colonies to confederate for mutual protection. These western land claims proved 
the greatest obstacle in the way of effecting that confederation, and for a time even 
imperiled our national existence. Any one who will search the Journals of Conjjress 
from October 15th, 1777, when the question was first raised, to March 1st, 1781, 
when Mainland signed the Articles of Confederation, thus completing the compact 
between the States, will admit the truth of the above assertion. On October 14th, 
1777, a rule was adopted by Congress providing that the expenses of the war, etc., 
should be defrayed from a common treasury to be supplied by the States in propor- 
tion to the value of all lands within each State granted to or surveyed by any person, 
the value of the buildings and improvements to be fixed by Congress. This rule was 
adopted, the non-claimant States (i. e. those having no claims on western lands) 
voting for it as well as the claimant States. It seems, however, to have set some of 
the delegates from the former to thinking, for on the next day, October 15th, this 
rule was proposed, probably by one of the Mainland delegates, as that State alone 
voted for it: "That the United States in Congress assembled shall have the sole and 
exclusive right and power to ascertain and fix the western boundary of such States as 
claim to the Mississippi, or the South Sea, and lay out the land beyond the boundary 



234 AN APPLE OF DISCORD. 

SO ascertained into separate and independent States, from time to time, as the numbers 
and circumstances of the people thereof may require." It served to alarm the 
claimant States, for twelve days later they caused to be incorporated in the articles 
of confederation then being considered, a declaration that Congress should be the 
court of last resort in all disputes between the States concerning boundaries, etc., 
with the proviso at the end that no State should be deprived of territory for the 
benefit of the United States. We may suppose that the proposition was hotly 
debated. Of the claimant States, Massachusetts, New York, Virginia and North 
Carolina voted for the amendment, South Carolina was divided, Georgia w^as not 
present, and Connecticut was not counted as but one delegate was present. Of the 
non-claimant States, Khode Island and Pennsylvania voted for it; [New Hampshire 
a^^ainst it] ; New Jersey was divided, and Maryland was not present. 

So rapidly were the articles formulated that they were completed by November 
1st, 1777, and were sent to the various States with a circular letter asking the latter 
to empower their delegates in Congress to ratify them. Some of the State Legis- 
latures did so promptly, others hesitated or proposed amendments, several of which 
raised again the question of w^estern territory. Maryland embodied her proposi- 
tion of the previous year, but in more moderate terms. Quite a discussion was had 
over it in Congress. Rhode Island, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware and Mary- 
land, all non-claimant States, voted for it. New Hamsphire, in the same categorj^, voted 
against it. Of the claimant States, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Virginia and South 
Carolina voted against it. New York was divided. North Carolina and Georgia 
were not present. So the amendment was lost. Ehode Island and New Jersey also 
submitted amendments covering the same subject, but of different tenor, proposing 
that the western land should be disposed of for the benefit of all the States, but not 
disturbing the jurisdiction. These also Avere voted down, Congress evidently believ- 
ing that to adhere to the original articles of confederation was the quickest way of 
securing their ratification. Yet the discussions and the amendments themselves served 
to draw public attention to the subject and to increase opposition to the demands of 
the claimant States. Meantime, nine of the States ratified the articles; but four — 
Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey and Georgia — still held aloof. To these Congress 
dispatched a circular letter urging them to ratify at once, adducing as the one grand 
argument that through the confederacy alone could America hope to achieve her in- 
dependence and disappoint the hopes of her enemies. Further deliberations, they 
urged, could be trusted to settle minor questions in a manner just and satisfactory to 



AN APPLE OF DISCORD. 235 

all. Georgia and New Jersey quickly responded to the appeal. The latter re-affirmed 
that the articles would be disadvantageous and unjust to her, but for the general 
good she would be Avilling to surrender her State interest, relying on the candor and 
justice of the several States to remove the unequal conditions as soon as practi- 
cable. Delaware ratified, February 22d, 1779, but accompanied the act with resolu- 
tions asserting that Congress should have the power of fixing the limits of States 
claiming to the Mississippi (which river, by the treaty of Paris, 17G3, had been 
made the western boundary of the English colonies), that those limits should be 
moderate, and that Delaware was justly entitled to an equal share in the western 
land formerly belonging to individual States, but which now had been, or must be, 
won by the blood and treasure of all. The ratification of Delaware left Maryland 
alone, and for two years she persisted in her refusal to enter the compact, not yielding 
until the claimant States had removed the ground of her objections by ceding their 
claims to the United States. Her reasons for not entering the confederacy were 
given in two able State papers, one a declaration adopted by her Legislature on 
December 15th, 1778, the other entitled "Instructions to the Maryland Delegates;" 
the principal reasons being those advanced by Delaware, with the additional one that 
the claimant States, grown rich and powerful by the sale of their rich territories, 
would attract emigration from the non-claimant States, and would in the end crush 
and absorb the latter. If Cone^ress would add an amendment embodving that of 
1777, then the Maryland delegates were authorized to ratify the articles of confede- 
ration. Instead of so doing and precipitating a conflict, Congress brought influence 
to bear on the claimant States to induce them to cede their claims. New York was 
the first to do so. On January 17th, 1780, her Legislature passed an act empowering 
her delegates to limit her boundaries in the western part by such lines as they should 
see fit, on condition that the land so relinquished should be for the use and benefit 
of the United States. This act of New York at once changed the situation; it put 
the claimant States on the defensive, and forced them to show cause why they should 
not be equally generous and patriotic. Congress followed this advantage by appeal- 
ing to the claimant States to relieve its embarrassment by relinquishing a liberal 
portion of their territorial claims, and passed a resolution that the lands so ceded 
should be disposed of for the common benefit, and that the reasonable expenses 
which any State might have incurred since the beginning of the war should be re- 
imbursed. Connecticut first responded to this appeal. On October 10th, her Leg- 
islature passed an act ceding all lands within her charter limits, west of the Susque- 



n9g THE COMPROMISE. 

hanna purchase and east of the Mississippi, the quantity of land so ceded to be in 
just proportion to that ceded by the other States. Virginia next answered. Her 
LegisUiture, January 2d, 1781, ceded to Congress all her rights to the land north- 
wert of the Ohio upon eight conditions, the two last binding the whole, namely ; first, 
that all purchases from the Indians and grants inconsistent with Virginia's charter 
in the ceded territory should be declared void ; second, that her title to the remaining 
territory southeast of the Ohio, along the Maryland, Pennsylvania and North Carolina 
l)oundaries, should be guaranteed to her by Congress. This in effect declared her 
claim le^ml and debarred the claims of New York and Connecticut. Congress de- 
clined to enter into discussion or controversy, and let the subject rest for a year or 
more. Meantime Maryland, mollified by these acts of the claimant States, consented 
to ratify the articles February 2d, 1781, relying on the justice of the States here- 
after as to her claims to the western lands. Her delegates accordingly signed the 
articles of confederation March 1st, 1781, "by which act," says the Journal, "the 
confederation of the United States of America was completed, each and every of the 
thirteen United States, from New Hampshire to Georgia, both included, having 
adopted and confirmed and by their delegates in Congress ratified the same." 'We 
must treat somewhat briefiy the later sessions which made the northwest a national 

domain. 

On January 31st, 1781, a committee of Congress had been raised to consider the 
vexed question of western land claims and report to Congress. The committee re- 
ported November 3d, 1781, recommending the acceptance of the New York cession, 
strono-ly urging Massachusetts and Connecticut to make an immediate release of all 
their claims without condition, and recommending that the cession from Virginia be 
not accepted because of the conditions attached, and urging the latter State, as she 
valued the peace, welfare and increase of the United States, to cede the aforesaid 
hinds without condition. This report was never acted on as a whole. Congress ac' 
cepted the New York cession October 29th, 1782. October 20th, 1783, Virginia, re- 
ceding from her former position, made a new cession of the Northwest Territory on 
condition that it should be laid out and formed into States, that her reasonable ex- 
penses in subduing and garrisoning it should be paid, that one hundred and fifty 
thousand acres of land promised by Virginia to Clarke and his soldiers should be 
granted them, and that the rest of the land not disposed of in bounties for the offi- 

NoTE. — The reader desirous of studying the subject more at length, is referred to B. A. Hinsdale'iS 
wnrl<, -The Old Northwest," New York, 18SS. 



THE NORTHWEST LAND ORDINANCE. 237 

cers and soldiers should be reserved for the benefit of the United States. Confess 
accepted this gift, and from this time the land question was of less importance in na- 
tional councils. Massachusetts ceded her claim in 1784, Connecticut in 1786, reserv- 
ing however a tract of land bounded on the north by Lake Erie, east by Pennsyl- 
vania, south by parallel 41, and west by a meridian line 120 miles west of Pennsyl- 
vania's western boundary, containing about 3,250,000 acres, known as the Western 
Reserve, in the present State of Ohio. These were about the dimensions of the West- 
moreland County of which she had been deprived by Pennsylvania. Congress ac- 
cepted it after a heated debate May 26th, 1786, aud thus the nation gained its title 
to the magnificent domain of the Northwest. 

The title acquired and the war ended, a form of government for the new territory 
was next to be provided. This, known in history as the "Ordinance of 1787," proved 
to be one of the most memorable documents that passed the doors of the old Con- 
gress, worthy to rank with the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution 
itself. Preliminary to it Congress enacted, in 1785, a land ordinance which provided 
for the systematic and authoritative survey of the territory without touching on the 
question of government. Lot number sixteen of every township was reserved for 
the maintenance of public schools within the said township. "A far-reaching act of 
statesmanship," says Professor Hinsdale, "for the funds derived from the sale of 
these original school lands are the bulk of the public school endowments of the five 
great States of the old Northwest." This example too has been followed in the case 
of all new States entering the Union since that time. The ordinance of 1787 re- 
affirmed the above provision, and also reserved lot number twenty-nine to be given 
perpetually to purposes of religion ; also not more than two complete townships to be 
given perpetually for the purpose of a university. These two townships now form 
the endowment of the Ohio University at Athens. On July 13th, 1787, Congress 
enacted an ordinance for the government of the territory, the principal features of 
which were a governor for a term of three years, a secretary for a term of four years, 
and three judges during good behavior, all to be appointed by Congress. A General 
Assembly was provided for as soon as there should be five thousand free male inhab- 
itants of lawful age. This Legislature should elect a territorial delegate to Congress ; 
before that, the government was to be in the hands of Congress and of a governor and 
council. The governor must possess a freehold of one thousand acres of land in the 
district, the secretary, judges, and members of council, five hundred each, and each 
elector for a representative, fifty acres. Next came the famous "Articles of Com- 



238 



THE NORTHWEST LAND ORDINANCE, 



pact' ' between the United States and the citizens of the territories— six in all. Article 
first provided that no person demeaning himself in a peaceable and orderly manner 
should be molested on account of his mode of worship or religious sentiments. 
Article second guaranteed trial by jury, the writ of habeas corpus, proportional rep- 
resentation in the legislative body, and the privileges of the common law. Article 




TIIK RANKS OF THE MISSISSIPPI IN THE STEAMBOAT PERIOD. 

third declared that religion, "morality and knowledge being necessary to good gov- 
ernment and the happiness of mankind, schools and the means of education shall 
forever be encouraged. ' ' It also urged the observance of good faith towards the Indi- 
ans. Article fourth declared that the Territory should ever remain part of the United 
States, and after some provisions for taxation, concluded with the declaration that the 



FOREVER FREE. 239 

navigable waters leading into the Mississippi and the St. Lawrence should be common 
highways and forever free, not only to citizens of the Territories, but of the United 
States. Article fifth provided for the formation of not less than three nor more than 
five new States, and drew their boundary lines, which, however, were subject to chano-e 
at the will of Congress. A population of 60,000 free inhabitants entitled a State to 
admission by its delegates to Congress — the present Union not then having been 
formed — and to all the rights and privileges that the older States enjoyed. But the 
Constitution and government of each State must be republican in form and in con- 
formity to the principles contained in those articles. Article sixth was the famous 
article prohibiting slavery and dedicating the Northwest forever to freedom. "There 
shall neither be slavery nor involuntary servitude in the said Territory," it read, "oth- 
erwise than for the punishment of crimes whereof the party shall have been duly con- 
victed," to which the proviso was added that fugitive slaves escaping from their 
masters in other States might be lawfully reclaimed by such owners. The authorship 
of this famous instrument, and especially of the last article, has been as much in dis- 
pute and as hotly debated as that of the Declaration itself. Mr. Webster, in the 
great debate of 1830, claimed the authorship of the latter for Nathan Dane, of Mas- 
sachusetts, while Hayne and Benton gave it to Thomas Jefferson. President King, of 
Columbia College, claimed it for his father, Rufus King. In his history, volume 
sixth, page 290, Mr. Bancroft has finely remarked on this subject: "Thomas Jef- 
ferson first summoned Congress to prohibit slavery in all the territory of the United 
States ; Rufus King lifted up the measure when it lay almost lifeless on the ground 
and suggested the immediate, instead of the prospective prohibition ; a Congress 
composed of five Southern States to one from New England and two from the Middle 
States, headed by William Grayson, supported by Richard Henry Lee, and using Na- 
than Dane as scribe, carried the measure to the goal in the amended form in which* 
King had caused it to be referred to a committee; and as Jefferson hud proposed, 
placed it under the sanction of an irrevocable compact." A gentleman not mentioned 
by INIr. Bancroft had not a little to do with it — Dr. Manasseh Cutler, a Massachusetts 
clergymen, possessing many of the attributes of a great statesman. He, with a num- 
ber of others, mostly ofiicers of the Revolution, had recently organized at Boston 
(March 3d, 1786), the Ohio Company of Associates, the object of which was the pur- 
chase and settlement of a large tract of land in the new territory. Cutler, in the gig 
that brought him from Boston, drove through the Bowery to the "Plough and Har- 
row" in the City of New York, on July 5th, 1787, the day before the ordinance was 



240 IMMENSITY OF THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY. 

to be taken up by the committee having it in charge, his ostensible object being the 
purchase from Congress of as much land in the new territory as that body would ex- 
chano-e for one million dollars of certificates of a public debt. He was vitally inter- 
ested in the pending ordinance, for only on the guarantee of a free and stable govern- 
ment would the New England men be willing to embark their lives and fortunes in 
the settlements of the Ohio. Congress was eager to sell its lands, and Dr. Cutler 
was invited by the committee to submit his views on the ordinance in writing. He 
did so on the 10th. On the 11th the committee reported, incorporating several of the 
doctor's views in their report, and on the 13th, after some amendments, their report 
was unanimously adopted by the States, thus completing an act of legislation 
that had been before Congress for three years. In view of the fact that this ordi- 
nance in all human probability determined the issue at Appomattox in 1865, it is 
sio-nificant, even startling, to remember that of the thirteen States voting for it eight 
were Southern States, and that of the eighteen members present eleven were South- 
ern men. Fourteen days later Congress authorized the sale of five million acres lying 
north of the Ohio and east of the Scioto, 1,500,000 acres of which were intended for 
Dr. Cutler's Ohio Associates or "Company," as it was officially styled, and the re- 
mainder for what was later known as the Scioto Company — "a private speculation" 
Dr. Cutler terms it in his diary, "in which many of the principal characters of 
America are concerned." The great region thus nationalized and thrown open to 
settlement comprised the area of an empire. Germany contains 212,091 square miles 
of land; Austria-Hungary, 240,943; France, 209,091 ; Great Britain and Ireland, 120,- 
874; Italy, 114,296; but the northwest territory comprised 265,878 — 25,000 miles 
more than the largest European empire, save Russia. In navigable waters its superiority 
was still more manifest. Its sides are washed by nearly three thousand miles of 
water highways. The great lakes that form its northern and eastern boundary contain 
nearly half the fresh water of the globe. The volume of the Mississippi is equal to 
that of three Ganges, of nine Rhones, of twenty-seven Seines, of eighty Tibers, of 
all the rivers of Europe, exclusive of the Volga. It is also watered by five minor navi- 
gable streams, each of them a great river when not in competition with the Mississippi. 
Its entire area is singularly fertile and susceptible of cultivation ; its waters teem 
Avith edible fish. Its mines are rich in coal, iron, copper, lead, oil, gas and salt. Its 
forests yield hard and soft wood. Its position renders it the key-stone of the polit- 
ical arch, the gate-way through which the travel and commerce of the East and West 
must pass. This vast area, an almost unbroken wilderness in 1787, has been sub- 



FIRST SETTLEMENT AT MARIETTA OHIO. 241 

dued, settled, and made the home of highly civilized, cultivated christian communi- 
ties with a rapidity never before equaled. The various steps of the conquest will 
be detailed more at length in subsequent chapters. Dr. Cutler's Ohio Company 
made the initial settlement at Marietta, in what is now Ohio, at the mouth of the 
Muskingum, on April 7th, 1788. Forty-eight sons of New England, headed by Gen. 
Eufus Putnam of Connecticut, a hero of the Kevolutionary, the French and Indian 
wars, landed on the banks of the Muskingum on that day, and began felling trees, 
erecting block-houses and a stockade called "Campus Martins," building houses and 
laying out a city. The new government was created on October 5th, 1787, when 
Congress elected Gen. Arthur St. Clair, Governor, and Winthrop Sargeant, Secretary 
of the territory, and a little later appointed General Samuel H. Parsons, a Eevolution- 
ary officer of merit, James M. Varnum and John Cleve Symmes, Judges. The gov- 
ernment was not formally inaugurated until July 9th, 1788, when Governor St. Clair 
landed at Marietta and was received with appropriate honors. Six days later, ac- 
companied by Secretary Sargeant and Judges Parsons and Varnum, he was publicly 
received in the Campus Martius by Gen. Putnam and the citizens with "the most sin- 
cere and universal congratulations." The Governor addressed the people, the Sec- 
retary read the ordinance and published the commissions of the officers. The Gov- 
ernor then spoke more at length, after which, "with applause and felicitations the 
people dispersed," and the machinery of the government of the Northwest was in mo- 
tion. On July 26th, the Governor created Washington County, which is, therefore, 
the oldest county in the Northwest ; and a few days later established a court of quar- 
ter sessions, and appointed magistrates for it. On September 2d, the judiciary was 
formally inaugurated with impressive ceremonies. A procession marched from Fort 
Harmar, near Marietta, to one of the block houses of the Campus Martius ; arrived 
there the judges took their seats on the bench. Dr. Cutler, who was on a visit to the 
€olony, offered prayer. The Secretary read the commissions of the judges and court 
officers, and the court was formally opened with the sheriff's proclamation "O yes! 
O yes ! a court is opened for the administration of even-handed justice to the poor 
and to the rich, to the guilty and the innocent, without respect to persons, none to 
be punished without trial by their peers, and then in pursuance of the law and ev- 
idence in the case." Paul Fearing, the first lawyer in the Northwest, was admitted 
to this court. 

Thus was Marietta founded, the nucleus of the present mighty State of Ohio. Fitly 
did Washington characterize its founders: "No colony in America was ever settled 
16 



242 THE OHIO company's purchase. 

under such favorable auspices as that which has just commenced at the Muskingum, 
Information, property and strength will be its characteristics. I know many of the 
settlers personally, and there were never men better calculated to promote the wel- 
fare of such a community." 




FALLS OF MINNKHAIIA. 



In the same year of the Ohio Company's purchase another extensive tract of one 
million acres was sold, lying on the north bank of the Ohio between the two Miami 
Rivers— known as the Symmes tract. Three colonies were planted on this tract in the 



THE WESTERN RESERVE. 



243 



year 1788, all on the Ohio Elver — North Bend, Losnntiville opposite the mouth of 
the Licking Eiver, and Columbia at the mouth of the Little Miami. For a time all 
expected North Bend to be the chief city, but on December 24th, 1788, Losanti- 
ville was chosen as the site of a military post and the seat of Hamilton County. 
It was by Gen. St. Clair re-christened "Cincinnati," after the famous society of 
Eevolutionary officers, and has since grown to be the Queen City of the Ohio Valley. 
Connecticut, after receiving her grant of the Western Eeserve, sold it in a body (ex- 
cept a certain area reserved for Eevolutionary sufferers), September, 1795, to a syndi- 




FALLS OF ST. ANTHONY. 



cate of thirty-five purchasers, for the sum of $1,200,000. Gen. Moses Cleveland, as 
agent of this syndicate, came out with a party of fifty emigrants, and on July 22d, 1796, 
founded at the mouth of the Cuyahoga the beautiful city which bears his name — the 
first settlement in the Western Eeserve. But to follow the fortunes of the various 
individual settlements would require a volume in itself. Let us turn rather and 
trace the formation of the various State governments. Indiana Territory began its 
independent existence July 4th, 1800, with William Henry Harrison as first gover- 
nor, and included all that part of the old territory lying west of the treaty line of 



244 CARVIXG THE TERRITORY INTO STATES. 

1795, from the Ohio Eiver to Fort Recovery, and of the raeridan of that fort to the 
national limits. The line was changed somewhat when Ohio became a State. Michi- 
o-an Territory was born January 11th, 1805, with Detroit as the seat of government 
and General Hull was the first governor. The act of February 3d, 1809, separated 
Elinois Territory from Indiana, with its capital at Kaskaskia, and Nininn Edwards, of 
Kentucky, as the first governor. Wisconsin was created a territory April 20th, 
1836, with a government modeled after entirely new features and much more demo- 
cratic in form than those formed under the ordinance. 

The creation of Iowa Territory (1838) limited the area of Wisconsin on the west 
by the Mississippi Eiver. A census taken in January, 1802, showed but 45,028 per- 
sons in the Ohio Territory. Nevertheless the democratic leaders at Washington de- 
cided that it should be made a State, and it was accordingly admitted to the Union 
April 30th, 1802, if we date from the act of Congress providing for her admission; 
November 29th, 1802, if we date from the close of the Chillicothe convention, Avhich 
formulated her Constitution; on February 19th, 1803, if we date from the act of 
Congress providing for the execution of the laws of the United States within the State 
of Ohio. 

Indiana was admitted veiy quietly December 11th, 1816, its population having 
been at the close of 1815, 68,897. Illinois, after a severe struggle over the question 
of slavery, was admitted December 3d, 1818, the census of 1820 giving her 55,162 
people. Michigan, whose settlement dated from 1668, was the fourth of the five to 
enter, being declared a member of the Union by Congress, January 26th, 1837, after 
a long quarrel with Ohio over the question of boundaries. Wisconsin, the last of the 
five, was made a State within the memory of living men, the enabling act creating 
her having been passed by Congress and approved August 6th, 1846, and her Con- 
stitution having been ratified by the people May 29th, 1848. In 1850 her popula- 
tion was 305,391. Minnesota, half of whose territory was derived from the Old 
Northwest, was admitted Ma}^ 11th, 1858. 



CHAPTER XII. 



FRENCH CHIVALRY IN THE SOUTHWEST. 



DISCOVEUIES AND eETTLPIMENTS. HOW MOBILE WAS SETTLED, CKOZAT'S CHARTER AND RO- 
MANTIC DKEAMS. JOHN LAW'S MISSISSIPPI COMPANY. EXPLOITS OF BIENVILLE. FOUNDS 

NEW ORLEANS. INTREPID GAUL AND POLITE CASTILIAN. VILLAGE OF THE WHITE APPLE 

CHIEF, AND WHAT TOOK PLACE THERE. DEATH OF CHOPART. WAR AGAINST THE CHICKA- 

SAWS. ARRIVAL OF THE ACADIANS. THE GAUL RELEASES HIS GRASP ON THE GREAT VAL- 
LEY. THE SPANIARD SIEZES LOUISIANA. THE ANGLO-SAXON'S ADVANCE FROM THE EAST. 

FRANCE COMES AGAIN TO HER OWN, BUT RELINQUISHES IT TO THE NEW REPUBLIC. 

TRADITIONS OF THE FRENCH OCCUPATION. A PRINCESS IN DISGUISE. BEAUDROT, THE 

HUNTER. BOSSU'S ADVENTURES. THE CLAN M'GILLIVRAY. THE NAPOLEONIST REFUGEES. 

IT is time to turn and see what French chivahy has been doing in the Southwest, 
that hind of mystery and fruitfuhiess scarcely yet reclaimed from the waters, 
and in which the germs of an empire laj^ dormant. 

In virtue of the discoveries of James Marquette, the Jesuit priest, the first Euro- 
pean who sailed on the waters of the Upper Mississippi, and of Sieur Robert Cavalier 
de La Salle, the bold trader, the first to follow the stream to the sea, France laid 
claim to all the regions bordering the Fathers of Waters, and upon his tributaries. 
The tract extended from the foot of the Appalachian chain to the head-waters of the 
Missouri ; and from Balize to Itasca Lake. But it was a dim cloudy realm to Euro- 
peans, known to them only by marvelous and exaggerated reports which had reached 
them from the few explorers. The Mississippi had never been entered from the Gulf 
except by Andrew de Fez, a Spaniard, about 1680, and of his discovery no trace 
remained. The brave La Salle had perished in attempting to find its mouth. But 
the difficulty of the discovery only the more inflamed the imagination and enthusiasm 
of France, already kindled by the reported goodliness of the land. As soon as the 
Grand Alonarque had brief space to rest from his wars, he gave heed to the impor- 
tunate cravings of some of his subjects, that they might go out and possess the fruitful 
and illimitable region to which the name of Louisiana was given in honor of his most 

245 



24() d'iberville's expedition. 

christian majesty. A little fleet of two frigates and two smaller vessels was fitted 
out in the port of Rochelle, from which the ill-starred La Salle had sailed fourteen 
years before. The command was intrusted to D'Iberville, a noble admiral of the 
French navy, who had spent most of his life in the New World, warring WMth the 
icebergs or the more implacable fury of his English adversaries about Hudson's 
Bay. A man of strict integrity, undaunted courage and unblemished reputation, 
idolized by his countrymen, and the most approved officer of the French navy, he 
was now to try his fortunes in a region bordering upon the tropics. With him sailed 
his two younger brothers, Sauvolle and Bienville, who were to be his partners in the 
perils and the honors of the enterprise. They weighed anchor in 1698 ; and on the 
first of January, 1699, they made land in the Gulf. Their terra firma proved to be 
a low flat sand island, upon which they found enormous heaps of unburied human 
bones, which they might have accepted with justice as an omen of the fate of the 
great Gallic enterprise which they were now initiating. On the suggestion of the 
horrid remains, they gave to this their first land the name of Massacre Island. 

The traveler of our day, en route to New Orleans, quits the pleasant city of 
Mobile, and after a sail of thirty miles, sees rising from the waters of the Gulf this 
low desert ridge which now bears the name of Dauphine Island. Just before reach- 
ing it, the boat, turning sharply to the right, proceeds through a narrow pass, and 
out of this into a series of bays, lakes and passes, defended from the storms of the 
Gulf by a low chain of sandy bulwarks, and at length reaches the placid Avaters of 
Lake Pontchartrain. It was upon the crystalline sands of these ridges that our ad- 
venturers bivouacked w^hen preparing for the subjugation of Louisiana; first on 
Massacre, or Dauphine Island, and subsequently on those further to the west. Later 
they crossed to the main land, and where the village of Biloxi now stands they built 
a fort of four bastions, upon which were mounted twelve guns, and over which waved 
the lilies of France as a token of supremacy. Impatient to discover the great river, 
which had been called Rio Grande by De Soto, the River of the Conception by Mar- 
quette, the Colbert by La Salle, but now, because it seems hidden from the eyes of 
men, the Perdido, the Lost, D'Iberville embarked with his brother, Bienville, a youth 
of eighteen, and a company of hardy adventurers, in open boats, leaving Sauvolle in 
command of the fort. As they voyaged towards the west, they observed that the 
blue waters of the Gulf became discolored and turbid, and found hus-e trees which 
had been uprooted deep within the continent, and borne by the rushing tide far out 
into the sea. These tokens apprised them that they were near the river's mouth. 



WOULD-BE FEUDAL BARONS, NOT TILLERS OF THE SOIL. 



247 



Before long they reached it, but D'Iberville could not believe that this was the open- 
ing of the majestic stream of which he had heard and dreamed. Father Anastase 
Douay, however, a priest who had been here with La Salle at the time of his dis- 
covery, averred that it was. As they toilsomely ascended the rapid current, they 
discovered a party of Indians at the mouth of the Bayou Goula, who had carefullv 
preserved a letter left there fourteen years before by Chevalier Tonti, La Salle's 
faithful lieutenant, and directed to his master. The natives also showed the aston- 
ished Frenchmen parts of a coat of mail, which had probably belonged to some of 
the followers of De Soto, whose party had vo^^aged this way a hundred and sixty 
years before. All doubt was thus removed 
and the goal at length was reached. They 
had gained their river, to which they gave 
the name of St. Louis; but where should 
they build their town ? The banks of the 
stream, for maii}^ a league from the sea, 
was only an oozy quagmire ; gloomy forests 
and tangled brakes covered the country to ''^ 
the landward far as the eye could penetrate ; 
and when they attempted to land, the swamp 
was their only resting place. No rood of dry, 
firm ground seemed to rise within this illim- 
itable morass. They returned to Biloxi, 
and resolved to build their metropolis on 
Mobile Bay, near the present site of the 
city of that name, and the infant settle- 
ment was named Fort Conde. 

Our adventurous friends had come to found a new empire, not with the plow and 
axe and loom, not with honest toil and honorable industry; but to gather the lumps 
of gold which, as they fondly imagined, strewed the surface of the earth and lay im- 
bedded within its depths. They would seek the priceless pearls which lined the 
coast. They would obtain grants of countless acres from the crown, and become 
feudal barons and great seigniors, and thus erect their State. The low pine barrens 
which constitute the margin of the Gulf, on which they had settled, afforded no 
chance for tillage ; and were the land rich as alluvium could make it, they would dis- 
dain the toil. Thus all their supplies, save the harvest of the waters, must be 




BIENVILLE. 

Governor of the Province of Louisiana. 



248 



DEATH OF D IBERVILLE. 



brought from France. But the voyages of ships were uncertain ; and ere long they 
were threatened with famine. Unused to the broiling summer heats of these low 
latitudes, they were soon visited by disease. The invisible, stealthy form of bilious 
fever emerged from the swamps, and laid about them with a two-edged sword. That 
hundred-headed monster, the yellow fever, imported from the West Indies, stalked 
among the defenseless settlers, spreading consternation and ruin, until hardly enough 
living were left to bury the dead. Sauvolle, the admiral's brother, a fair, intrepid 




BIENVILLE BUILDING FORT ROSALIE. 



youth, was among the earliest victims; and before six years had passed, D'Iberville 
himself was sacrificed. Alas for the hopes of chivalry ! Neither gold nor pearls had 
yet been found. The colony was well-nigh exterminated by disease and want, and 
must have perished but for the compassionate aid of friendly Indian neighbors. 

The command was now conferred upon Bienville, on whose wise guidance and 
skillful management the hopes of the future empire rested. But the materials fur- 
nished him were not such as he could desire. Recruits were sent him by shiploads; 



POOR FOUNDATION MATERIAL. 



249 



insolvent debtors and men of broken fortunes, criminals from the prisons, and aban- 
doned women, the most wretched and degraded of mankind sent to dig the founda- 
tions and lay the corner-stones of the future edifice. With such instruments, what 
could even a o-reat man like Bienville do? He was satisfied that the dreams about 
gold and precious stones were idle and empty ; that the true hope and welfare of the 
colony was in agriculture ; that the toil of the people could alone yield them the 
means of subsistence, and afford them the materials for trade ; that the labor of the 







LAYING OUT NEW ORLKANS. 



husbandman and the mechanic furnished the only sure basis for commerce ; and that 
their metropolis must be built on the banks of the great river, so as to command by 
a practicable and easy highway the resources of the whole interior, and have opened 
to it a sure and immediate communication with Canada. But he was baffled and dis- 
heartened by his filthy and worthless coadjutors, and no real work was accomplished. 
Thirteen ^^ears had passed, a hundred and seventy thousand dollars had been ex- 
pended, and the results were unsatisfactory enough. Only two hundred and eighty 



250 ANTHONY CROZAT'S COSTLY EXPERIMENT. 

settlers, for the most part idle and dissolute vagrants, among whom were twenty do- 
mestic negroes, were in the province. The king and council were discouraged; 
somethino- nmst be done for Louisiana; but how, or what, were questions hard to 
settle. At this time there was in Paris a great merchant, one Anthony Crozat, who 
had amassed an immense fortune by trade and speculation. The king offered him 
the monopoly of the country flanked on its eastern side by Florida and the Alle- 
o-hanies, on its western bv the Rio del Norte and the Rocky Mountains, and extend- 
iuo- from Dauphine Island to the Lakes. He should have it with its mines and min- 
erals, its forests, game and peltries, its fisheries and agriculture. He accepted the 
offer ; and the world thought he knew his business, and predicted for him a splendid 
result. La Motte Cadillac was Governor at Detroit, and he became Crozat' s part- 
ner. Their plan was to open trade between France and the West India Islands, 
Mexico, and Louisiana. But Spain refused leave to trade, declining to allow their 
vessels to enter any of her ports ; and as for Louisiana, who was there to bu}^ their 
goods? and there was no merchandise to be carried thence. Thus the speculation of 
the great merchant failed, and at the end of five years he surrendered his charter, 
having paid thirty thousand dollars for the chance of making an experiment. But 
there were others eager to accept the opportunity ; confident that there was wealth in 
Louisiana, and that it could be obtained, if only the right means were taken to get it. 

The mind of England and France was at this time possessed of a mania for specu- 
lation. 

In the first, the South Sea Company was offering an ample field for the knavery of 
rogues and the folly of dupes; in the other, John Law, a canny Scot, who had es- 
tablished a private bank, and was doing a thriving business, assuming the style and 
position of an opulent capitalist. Possessing the entire confidence of the generous, 
but profligate regent, Phillippe d'Orleans, and of the aristocracy and wealth through- 
out the country, he was organizing various companies and schemes; a bank of 
France, a company of the Indies, and a Mississippi compan3^ The latter procured 
a charter for twenty-five years to monopolize Louisiana. Its stock Avas divided into 
two hundred thousand shares, the par value of which was five hundred livres each. 
All classes of people throughout France having money became stock-jobbers. The 
Bourse opened Avith the beat of drum. Abbes, bishops, cardinals, dukes, royal 
princes and the fairest women of the realm, thronged the Exchange and vied Avith 
each other in the financial competition. The shares of the Louisiana speculation Avere 
greedily bought up. Maps delineating its vastness, illustratnig its fertility and 



EMPTYING THE FILTH OF PARIS INTO THE MISSISSIPPI VALLEY. 



251 



wealth; a soil richer than that of the delta; mountains of silver, richer than that of 
Potosi; and of gold, with which the land of Ophir could not be compared; picturing 
prosperous states and towns, quays thronged with shipping and busy tradesmen, were 
exhibited in Paris, and inflamed the already excited fancy of the country. It was 
whispered as a great secret, but gained a wide circulation, that ingots of Louisiana 
gold had been seen in Paris, but by whom no one paused to inquire. The lust for 
sudden riches had deprived the people of their common sense ; and the infinite wealth 
of the Mississippi Valley was believed in as a present fact by the noble brokers and 




I ^m' 






A NEGKO INSL :R1;ECTI0N. 



bankers of France, during the first quarter of the eighteenth century. Active meas- 
ures were at once set on foot by the company to increase the population of the prov- 
ince. They entered into obligation, by their charter, to settle six thousand whites 
and three thousand African slaves within its limits. The pernicious plan of sending 
out the prostitute and the criminal was continued. Street-walkers and women 
from the hospitals of correction, bankrupts, felons whose sentence was commuted to 
transportation, were to become the agent in gaining fabulous stores of wealth. Oth- 
ers, however, of more reputable character were sent; and at length the scheme of 
emptying the filth of Paris into the great valley was given up. Law and his com- 



252 ENGLAXD AND SPAIN PARTNERS IN THE SLAVE TRADE. 

pany controlled in Louisiana the exclusive traffic in human flesh, as England did 
throuo-hout the rest of the New World. Britain not only supplied her colonies upon 
the Atlantic coast with slaves, but in pursuance of her plans of ambiguous and gigan- 
tic monopoly, gained, by the treaty of Utrecht, the sole right to supply Spanish Amer- 
ica with Africans. "Her Britannic Majesty did offer and undertake," quotes Ban- 
croft from the treaty of Utrecht, "by persons whom we shall appoint, to bring into 
the West Indies of America, belonging to his Catholic Majesty, in the space of thirty 
years, a hundred and forty thousand negroes, at the rate of four thousand and eight 
hundred in each of the said thirty years ; paying on four thousand a duty of thirty- 
three and one-third dollars a head." The assientists might introduce as many more 
as they pleased at the rate of duty of sixteen and two-thirds dollars a head. Onl}^ no 
scandal was to be offered to the Roman Catholic religion. Exactest care was taken 
to secure the monopoly. No Frenchman nor Spaniard, nor any other person might 
introduce one negro slave into Spanish America. For the Spanish world in the Gulf 
of Mexico, on the Atlantic and along the Pacific, as well as for the English colonies, 
her Britannic Majesty, by persons of her appointment, was the exclusive slave-trader. 
England extorted the privilege of filling the New World with negroes. As great 
profits were anticipated from the trade, Philip V. of Spain took one quarter of the 
common stock, agreeing to pay for it by a stock note; Queen Anne reserved to her- 
self another quarter; and the remaining stock was to be divided among her subjects. 
Thus did the sovereigns of England and Spain become the largest slave merchants in 
the world. 

By the side of this enormous speculation in flesh and blood. Lawn's was dwarf -like. 
Nevertheless, the profits derived from the sale of the negroes were one of the chief 
sources of revenue to the company's coffers. The price of a stout negro man was a 
hundred and fifty dollars; that of a healthy woman, a hundred and twenty-five 
dollars. It was subsequently raised about sixteen per cent. Nor Avas the perpetual 
bondage of the African the onl}-^ style of slavery adopted. Twenty-five hundred 
Germans of the Palatinate were introduced into the province, who were called "Re- 
demptioners." They were bound to work as slaves for three years in the service of 
those who defrayed their expenses across the deep. Considerable numbers of 
soldiers, miners and assayers, in addition, were sent; the first to defend the colonists, 
and the others to discover and work the precious ores. Lead, iron, copper, without 
end, were found; but after the most extensive and assiduous search, neither gold nor 
silver. Two or three years were devoted by the company's servants to this bootless 



THE SITE OF THE "CRESENT CITY" SELECTED. 253 

quest; and then, at last, Bienville's long-urged policy of wringing riches from the 
soil was reluctantly adopted. Meanwhile, the enterprising governor had established 
a fort and laid the foundations of a town on the site of the present city of Natchez, 
giving to it the name of Fort Rosalie, in honor of the Countess Pontchartrain, wife 
of the French Minister of Marine, D'Iberville's friend and his patron in the colon- 
ization of Louisiana. The location had been selected by the brave admiral twelve 
years before ; but the spot was too far distant from the sea to permit it to become 
the capital ; and Bienville was still perplexed in his attempt to discover an advan- 
tageous site for his metropolis. During his. persevering and diligent explorations for 
this object, he was one day examining the muddy boiling stream of the Mississippi 
with boats and sounding lines, when suddenly the white sails of a large ship, 
and then the unwelcome ensign of St. George, presented themselves to his vision, 
slowly moving up the narrow stream. It was a British corvette of tAvelve guns. 
Without a moment's hesitation, the bold and quick-witted Frenchman hailed her; 
found that Captain Barre was in command ; that her consort was in waiting at the 
river's mouth; and that he was upon the errand of planting an English colonjMn 
those parts. Bienville immediately advised him that he was within the dominions of 
the King of France, that he must forthwith get out of them ; and that unless he did 
so, Bienville w^ould use the ample means within his command at the French fortifica- 
tions a little way above, to make him. He volunteered likewise the valuable piece of 
geographical information that Captain Barre was in the wrong river ; for that the 
Mississippi was much further west. The Englishman was at a stand, seemingly more 
fearful of Bienville's castle in the air than confident in his directions; he grumbled, 
and asserted that the British had discovered the river half a century before, and that 
he would come back with force enough to substantiate the claim by seizure. He 
turned about, however, for the present, and departed ; doubtless leaving the cunning 
Gauls in great merriment; but did not come back, and the place of this effectual 
deceit is yet named the English Turn. 

Descending the river in another of his many expeditions, Bienville noted a bend in 
the tortuous stream, which assumed the shape of a crescent. Examining the land 
upon its margin, he resolved that notwithstanding its unpropitious appearance, here 
should his tow^n be built. Staking the spot, he returned to Mobile and dispatched 
thence fifty convicts for the purpose of clearing the ground of the forest under- 
growth. The task was a herculean one; the means at Bienville's command to carry 
it forward were small ; and, moreover, the project was uncompromisingly opposed 



254 A DEBAUCHEE TO-DAY A MINISTERING ANGEL TO-MORROW. 

b}^ his associates in the government. Nevertheless, his will was irresistible, and all 
obstacles at length yielded. By the year 1722, five years after the work had begun, 
a thriving and prosperous town appeared from out the tangled canebrake, overshad- 
owed bv the funeral forest of the cypress swamp, and washed upon its southern edge 
bv the yellow current of the great river. He named the place in honor of the prince 
who "forgot God, and trembled at a star" — the reckless regent. Due d'Orleans. 
The experience of more than a century and a half has set its seal on the sagacity of 
its founder. The village, a site for which he struggled so hard and so long to find, 
to build which cost him so many painful efforts, has grown to be one of the com- 
mercial centers of the New AVorld. Its exports in some years have been greater 
than those from the whole East Indian empire. It is the entrepot from the sea for a 
realm well-nigh as wide as the whole vast expanse of Hindostan. But while Britain 
derived from the slave-trade the means to build up her empire in the east, and thus 
again acquired boundless wealth and commercial prosperity for herself, France 
gained nothing from her effort to establish feudalism in the wilderness, but loss, 
disaster and defeat. The city of New Orleans, founded by Bienville, seems to 
have perpetuated in its history the characteristic traits of the man from whom it 
was named. There dissoluteness has walked brazen-faced and unchecked, and by 
its side the divine figure of generosity. Nowhere else in this country has vice been 
so rampant, and sin so unblushingly exposed. Nowhere else have men been so 
openly eager in the pursuit of interdicted aims, and so reckless as to the methods of 
attaining them. Yet when the fearful figure of the plague casts his dark shadow 
over the swamp-engirdled town, when the pestilence walketh in darkness, and 
destruction wasteth at noon-day, when it may be said, almost without exaggera- 
tion, that a thousand fall at your side and ten thousand at your right hand, the 
bravo, the gambler, and the debauchee, forget their trades of crime; the merchant, 
banker and artisan quit their occupations; the gay, frivolous and worldly leave their 
mirth and wine, and all are found rivaling and sometmies surpassing the self- 
devotion of the priest and the physician ; ministering angels in the house of woe, 
carrying bread, wine and medicine to the hovels of the poor, bending over their in- 
mates with inexpressible solicitude, and nursing them through lonely vigils with a 
mother's care and tenderness. Nowhere else have money and life been so wildly 
squandered; yet nowhere has wealth been so bountifully bestowed in charity, or 
love and life so freelv given at the call of sufferino-. 



THE DAWN OF GENUINE PROSPERITY. 



255 



The best portion of the inhabitants of Louisiana were as yet derived from Canada. 
These hardy emigrants, trained by solitude, rigor and hardship, to frugahty, en- 
terprise and virtue, became the most thrifty and rehable members of the new State. 

Their only property their coarse garments, a knapsack and staff, they yet pos- 
sessed indomitable courage and resolution, and willingness to labor. Plantations 
were opened on the banks of the Mississippi above and below the new city, in the 
environs of Fort Rosalie, in the Red, Yazoo, and Arkansas Rivers. Rice, tobacco 
and indigo were successfully cultivated. The fig was transplanted from Provence, 
and the orange from Hispaniola. Neat cottages and pretty gardens caused the wilder- 
ness to bloom in many a spot, and all wore the golden hue of promise and success. 
Moreover, a thriving trade was opened with the countries of the Illinois and Wabash. 
Lumber, tallow, bees-wax, 
bacon, hides and peltries 
were received from these 
middle regions and shipped 
aefain to France. Coureurs 
du hois and voyageurs as- 
cended the Mississippi and its 
tributaries to their sources, 
discovered hundreds of mines 
of gold and silver, which al- 
ways proved to be copper 
and lead; smoked the calu- 
met, negotiated treaties of 
peace and amity with the 
distant aborigines, and re- 
turned with such stores as they had gathered in traffic, their memories overrunning 
with stirring and marvelous stories, the product of their fancies and adventures, 
more pleasing to their gossips and neighbors than their substantial gains. 

Nor were the spiintual interests of the people overlooked. An Ursuline convent 
was established in New Orleans ; churches were built in every village, missions estab- 
lished in every settlement; and Jesuits went wherever the hardy trader ventured, do- 
ing their utmost to convert the red savages from heathenism. The indefatigable 
Bienville, dreading the approach of the English and their traffic with the Indians on 
the northeast, built Fort Toulouse near the spot where the limpid waters of the 
Coosa and Tallapoosa form the Alabama. Farther to the west, on the river which 




THE URSULINE CONVENT ESTABLISHED BY THE FRENCH IN 
NEW ORLEANS. 



256 



INTREPID GAUL AXD POLITE CASTILIAN. 



bears the name, he erected Fort Tombigbee. No sooner did he receive the news that 
war had been declared between France and Spain, than he -crossed from Mobile, cap- 
tured Pensacola, blew up the forts, and left the town in ashes. As the Spaniards, 
by their advance from Mexico, were threatening his western boundaries, having built 
San Antonio de Bexar and fortified Goliad, and even then having their outposts upon 
Trinity River, he sent the doughty De La Harpe to protect his frontier, and sta}^ the 
proo-ress of the invaders by building the town of Natchitoches, and establishing 
posts on the upper waters of the Red River. 

Between the intrepid Gaul and the polite Castilian in command of his Spanish 
Majesty's troops upon these borders, there ensued a short and spirited correspon- 
dence, the substance of which is here set down. The Spanish commandant addressed 

De La Harpe as follows : 

' ' Monsieur : — I am 

very sensible of the po- 
liteness that Monsieur 
De Bienville and your- 
self have had the good- 



ness to show me. The 
order I have received 
"^ from the king, my mas- 
ter, is to maintain a good 
understanding with the 










NEW ORLEANS IN 1719. 



French of Louisiana. 
My own inclinations lead me equally to afford them all the services that depend upon 
me, but I am compelled to say that your arrival at the Nassonite village surprises me 
very much. Your government could not have been ignorant that the post you oc- 
cupy belongs to my government; and that all the lands west of the Nassonites de- 
pend upon New Mexico. I recommend you to give advice of this to Monsieur De 
Bienville, or you will force me to oblige you to abandon lands that the French have 

no right to occupy. I have the honor to be, sir, -r^ t ^ ,, 

* ^-^ ' ' De La Corne. 

To these compliments and threats De La Harpe answered, denying the correctness 
of the representations made by the Spaniard, asserting the right of the French to 
maintain themselves where he was then in position, and ending with the following 
pithy phrases : 



A SEMI-CIRCLE OF FORTS ERECTED. 257 

"It was the French who first made alliance with the savage tribes in these regions; 

and it is natural to conclude that a river which flows into the Mississippi, and the lands 

it waters, belong to the king, my master. If you will do me the pleasure to come into 

this quarter, I will convince 3'ou that I hold a post which I know how to defend. I 

have the honor to be, sir, t^ t tt 

De La Harpe. 

The Spanish commander discreetly refrained from any attempt to make good his 
threats ; both French and Spaniards maintained their advanced posts, the nearest beino- 
only nine miles apart; andtheir conflicting claims were onh^nerged in the cession to 
Spain in 1762. 

The indefatigable Bienville, not satisfied with guiding the interior concerns of his 
colony with infinite negotiations and intrigue — supported when necessary with unscru- 
pulous violence — among the various tribes of the Muscogee confederacy, the Natchez 
and those west of the Mississippi River, had in view the accomplishment of a vast 
scheme for the establishment of the French authority in Louisiana upon an impreo-- 
iiable basis. In the year 1723, after many efforts, he succeeded in causino; the trans- 
fer of the seat of government from the hopeless sand-beach at Biloxi to his settlement 
of New Orleans, where b}^ natural gravitation, inhabitants, wealth and trade were 
rapidly accumulating. A survey of the mouth of the Mississippi having been made, 
the commercial capacities of the port were demonstrated. An advantageous center 
of operations thus gained, almost simultaneous enterprises were undertaken to estab- 
lish at the margin of an immense circle of territory such forts and settlements as 
should secure the colony against the Spaniards on the west, northwest and east, and 
the English in Carolina to the northeast, and at the same time open and protect a 
sure communication with the distant sister Settlements in Canada. Bernard La Harpe, 
as we have seen, had already fortified himself upon the Eed River. An attempt was 
made, unsuccessfully however, to plant a fort upon the Texan coast, near the mouth 
of the Colorado. Le Sueur established a fort at a point estimated to be two thousand, 
two hundred and eighty miles from the sea, among the Sioux, upon the Blue Earth 
River, a branch of the St. Peter's, which joins the Mississippi. Boisbriant erected the 
celebrated French stronghold of Fort Chartres, in the Illinois country. Fort Conde 
in Mobile Bay, Fort St. Louis in Biloxi Bay, and Fort Toulouse at the head of navi- 
gation in the Alabama River, all newly stored, fortified and garrisoned, completed 
the series of main points upon this immense semi-circle ; while the outer line and the 
radii to the center were made good by numerous trading posts, and rapid and con- 
17 



258 law's fantastic bubble bursts. 

staut communication was maintained on foot and in canoes by traders, detachments 
of troops, official parties, priests and travelers. 

In spite of the continued disappointment of the expectations of enormous revenue 
on the part of the Mississippi Company at home ; in spite of want and misery among 
improvident emigrants, as well as even among the troops and settlers, in spite of 
endless bickerings and pecuniary mismanagements between jealous and greedy 
colonial officials ; of the excessive waste of strength, time and money in premature 
expeditions to distant wildernesses, and of the occasional murmurs and discontent, 
discovered now in one Indian tribe and now in another, the progress of the colony on 
the whole was sure and onward. 

But soon the bursting of the fantastic bubble, with whose gaudy hues John Law 
had so long fooled all France, gave a terrible blow to the struggling 3'Oung common- 
wealth. Already the company had expended more than three hundred and fifty 
thousand dollars, without any equivalent receipts. With great difficulty they had 
from time to time continued to send uncertain shipments of supplies, and to maintain 
their various establishments. But the utter prostration of business which the de- 
struction of the value of Law's fictitious money brought upon the province, held the 
knife at the throat of the settlements. Every man was loaded with debts incurred 
during the fatal delusion, and reckoned in paper money, which was now almost 
worthless. Inexorable creditors, themselves hard pressed by their obligations, 
demanded payment in silver, which did not exist in the province. The difficulty was 
partly evaded by despotically doctoring the currency, so as to allow the dollar — Avorth 
four livres — to pay seven and a half livres of debt, and re-establishing its former value 
ten months afterwards. But business was at a dead stand, and the land was full of 
discouraged, clamorous, starving settlers ; for the supplies from France had ceased, 
and the undeveloped agriculture of the little farms did not suffice to give them bread. 
The soldiers were dispersed among the friendly Indians for food, and several large 
bodies of them mutinied and fled to the English, or were barbarously punished. The 
Germans established upon Law's own colony on the Arkansas River, abandoned and 
distressed, returned en masse to New Orleans, intending to seek again their European 
homes. To avoid the pernicious effect of such an example, however, new grants 
were made to them of land close along the river about twent}^ miles above that cit}^ 
Their skillful industry soon changed the wilderness into gardens; and the "German 
coast," as it is yet called, long supplied the market of the little capital with all man- 
ner of delicious fruits and veijetablcs. 



"THE FATHER OF LOUISIANA" RETURNS TO FRANCE. 259 

The wrath of heaven seemed to join with the folly of man to afflict Louisiana. A 
terrific equinoctial tornado, in September, 1723, devastated all the southern portion 
of the province. At New Orleans the fearful blast leveled the church, the hospital, 
and thirty dwelling-houses. Several vessels were destroyed ; the crops of rice, just 
maturing, were swept off; farm houses were blown down, and infinite injury done to 
plantations and improvements. This frightful calamity augmented both the famine 
and the discouragement; and dark indeed seemed the horizon of the future. 

Bienville, however, unmoved as a rock, still held the helm of government, and his 
strong will, vigorous administrative talent, and marvelous energy, were felt throuo-h- 
out every portion of the province. In spite of these multiplied misfortunes, he per- 
severed; and during the years immediately following, the colony gradually revived to 
something of prosperity both in agriculture and in trade, and increased in pop- 
ulation and in wealth. In the midst of this happiness, Bienville's enemies, who had 
long and relentlessly pursued him with slanderous dispatches sent to France, and 
with all manner of insults and machinations within the colony, at last succeeded in 
procuring his recall to answer charges of misconduct. Notwithstanding his explora- 
tions, the labor of a quarter of a century, and their promising results, he was removed, 
and many of his friends with him ; and the governorship bestowed upon M. Perrier. 
Disgusted with this usual return for faithful Dublic services, Bienville remained in 
France in a private station. 

For two years after the departure of Bienville, "the Father of Louisiana," the 
colony continued to increase and prosper under the authorit}^ of M. Perrier, his suc- 
cessor. But in 1729 a more fearful disaster than tornado or bankruptcy again came 
like a thunderbolt upon the hapless settlers ; a disaster the more wretched, because it 
was the reaction of the fiendish passions of barbarians, roused into the most ungov- 
ernable rage by the wicked and tyrannical folly of the victims themselves. 

The Natchez Indians, formerlj^ a powerful nation, but now reduced bv wars to a 
fighting force of about twelve hundred men, occupied the neighborhood of the pres- 
ent city of Natchez, named after them. Tall, strong and active, of uncommon in- 
tellectual power, indicated by the high retreating forehead, which was a peculiaritv 
of the tribe, the Natchez exerted a powerful influence over the nations near them. 
They were, for savages, peaceful and industrious when undisturbed; but capable of 
the most enduring resentment, and bitter and active enemies in revenire for an in- 
jury. After a fashion quite the reverse of the usual conduct of Frenchmen towards 
savages, Bienville and the other French of Louisiana had been harrassed with contin- 



2(30 INHUMAN TREATMENT OF THE INDIANS. 

ual quarrels with the Indians, seemingly caused by haughty and unscrupulous mal- 
treatment from the Europeans. Although the Natchez had received D'Iberville with 
respect and kindness, yet his brother Bienville, a man of strong and imperious will, 
had, as early as 1716, shown great harshness in settling a quarrel between the small 
garrison of Fort Rosalie and the neighboring savages. Again, in 1723, a more se- 
rious outbreak occurred. By the causeless violence of some French soldiers, one 
warrior was killed and another wounded. The savages, in revenge, waylaid, robbed 
and murdered along the frontier; and at length a war party of eighty made an open 
attack upon the settlements. The assailants were repulsed, but not before two plant- 
ers were slain, and many depredations committed. The chiefs, "Suns" as they 
were called, of the tribe, hastened, however, to secure a peace, by treating with the 
commandant of the fort. Bienville now coming on to the post, ratified the agree- 
ment, and departed in apparent friendship. But with a duplicity and ferocity far 
more shameful than that of these ignorant children of the forest, he fell suddenly 
upon them, seven months afterwards, with seven hundred troops, ravaged their coun- 
try with fire and sword, mercilessly destroyed men, women, and children, and sternly 
insisted that they should buy a peace by delivering to death one of their sacred 
chieftains, the Suns. The horrified but helpless Indians offered several common war- 
riors to death instead; two, successively devoting themselves, were slain, and their 
heads offered to Bienville. But the inexorable Frenchman persisting, at last suc- 
ceded in forcing the sacrifice, and thus having exacted his own measure of jDunish- 
ment for deeds provoked by his fellow Frenchmen, and having chosen in doing it, to 
violate every feeling and passion of their savage hearts, he returned home in ruthless 
triumph. The unfortunate Natchez, now despairing of any reliable amity with the 
French, repaid for kindness with the most bitter insult and with irreparable injuries, 
and seeing the power and the tyranny of their foes increase together, in cautious si- 
lence began to plot revenge, and nurtured their schemes for six years, finally to be 
developed by the attempt to crown the long course of injuries by another gratuitous 
oppression, threatened by a subaltern against the nation. 

Chopart, the brutal commandant at Fort Eosalie, had long been the object of pe- 
culiar hatred to the tribe ; and between him and them there had been going on an 
exchange of bitter injuries. Having been once even cited to Ne^v Orleans, to answer 
to the complaints against him laid before M. Perrier by the Natchez chiefs, he man- 
aged to maintain himself in his command, and returning to his post, gratified his re- 
vengeful anger by contriving new and elaborate insults. 



VILLAGE OF THE WHITE APPLE CHIEF. 261 

About three leagues from the fort, upon an extensive and fertile plain, stood the 
village of the White Apple Chief, a Sun of the Natchez tribe. In the open, sunny 
plain, humble and happy homes were scattered here and there among the wide fields 
of corn, pumpkins, and beans, and in the midst, upon an artificial mound, and near a 
rivulet, stood the sacred abode of the Grand Sun. Here, from time immemorial, 
generation after generation had lived, loved, and died; around this happy spot clus- 
tered all the associations sacred to their family, their nation, their religion. 

The wrathful amazement of their chief cannot be pictured, upon being rudely sum- 
moned to the presence of the brutal commander, and coolly informed that he and his 
nation must forthwith remove their habitations to some other spot, and permit their 
sprouting crops to be laid waste. Chopart pretended that he needed the ground for 
a military post. His intention was, at the same time, to gratify his insane enmity 
against the Indians, and to lay out a magnificent plantation for himself upon the 
ruins of their dwellings. Gravely hiding his emotion, after the decorous savage 
manner, the Sun replied that "their fathers for many years had occupied that 
ground, and it was good for their children still to remain on the same." The mil- 
itary tyrant threatened violence; and the chief called his council together to deter- 
mine upon the proper action in the case. Further forbearaince was decided upon, 
and a tribute of a basket of corn and a hen for each cabin being promised, Chopart 
was bribed thereby to postpone the day of destruction until the 3^oung crops should 
have been gathered in. But as the time for destroying the village approached, the 
smothered flame of savage indignation burned quietly, but hotter and hotter. In se- 
cret council the chiefs of the Natchez resolved upon revenging their cruel wrongs, 
and securing themselves for the future, by exterminating the whole colony ; killing 
men and enslaving women and children. The secret was confined to the chiefs and 
warriors. Kunners sent out in every direction advised the confederate tribes — the 
indomitable and ferocious Chickasaws to the north, the northern affiliated bands of 
their Natchez kinsmen, the Creeks to the east, and to the west the nearly related 
tribe of the Tensas — that the time was at hand for the execution of the design which 
together they had so carefully guarded from suspicion, and for whose opportunity 
they had waited with such untiring patience for six long years. Bundles of reeds, 
equal in number, were distributed to all the villages. Beginning with the next new 
moon, a reed was daily to be withdrawn ; and upon the day when the last was taken, 
the attack was to be made, Chopart and the garrison received repeated intimations 
of the approaching danger, but the tyrant's heart was hardened — he grew even more 



2g2 DEATH OF CHOPART. 

careless of defense or circumspection, and met the messengers with violent threats 

for their pains. 

By some error not explained, the Natchez bundle of reeds Avas exhausted too soon. 
A day or two before the proper time, the Natchez having learned that a large suppW 
of ammunition had just reached Fort Rosalie, concealed weapons within their dress, 
and gradually insinuating themselves in considerable numbers within the fort, they 
chaffered for powder and ball, which they said they needed for a great hunting match 
about to come off; and they offered uncommonly good bargains in poultry and corn. 
Utterly unsuspicious, the French eagerly took the usual white man's advantage of 
the simple savage, and bargained hard. In the bustle of the sales, the number of 
red men who had distributed themselves about the buildings was unnoticed. But 
suddenly every frightened Frenchman saw the wild light of savage fury flame out of 
the Indian's dark eyes. The Great Sun had given the appointed signal ; and before 
he could grasp a weapon, almost before he could cry out, the Avretched victim was 
struck down, brained, thrust through. Like banded fiends risen through the earth, 
the red men struck all together; and where but one moment before, the purlieus of 
the fort were scattered over with laughing or scolding couples, now groaning, writhing 
men lay in their gore here and there, and the wild men of the forest, drunk with the 
mad joy of assured success, chased hither and thither the screaming survivors, and 
pitilessly slew them in their hiding places. Chopart himself, the scoundrel and tyrant 
who had caused the deed, was struck down among the first. Tradition says that he 
revived again, as if doomed to behold the fruits of his mad folly; and rising up 
wounded and l)loody, amid the gor}^ corpses of his men, he looked around him upon 
the horrors of the massacre. At last, probably still confused with his wounds 
and the dreadful surprise, instead of standing in his own defense, fled out into the 
garden, and whistled to call his soldiers. They could not answer; he might have 
seen them dead all around him. The Indians came, however, at his signal, and gath- 
ered about their helpless, hated oppressor with unutterable rage and exultation on 
their swarthy faces. They said he was a "dog," unworthy to be slain by a brave 
man; and so they sent for a minister to some degrading heathen ceremony, whom 
the early Avriter calls the "chief stinking-man." This base executioner killed him 
with a dog's blow — he knocked him in the head with a club — and thus did the wicked 
commandant, the first and the last of the slain, taste, in dreadful measure, the full- 
ness of the bitterness of death. 



EXTERMINATION OF THE NATCHEZ. 263 

During the massacre the Great Sun, seating himself in the company's warehouse, 
quietly smoked his pipe; while his warriors heaped before him in a frightful pyrsi- 
mid the heads of the slain. The ghastly pile was crowned with the dead features of 
the officers, and surmounted with the bloody visage of Chopart himself. The soldiers 
dead, the women, children, and slaves were secured, and the chief bade his warriors 
go to plunder. The slaves were made to bring out the spoil for distribution ; the 
military stores were reserved for public use ; and the victorious Indians gave them- 
selves up to orgies of savage triumph. 

In the beginning of the attack, the houses near the fort were fired, and the 
smoke signaled the assault throughout the neighboring settlements. All were alike 
successful. The massacre began about nine in the morning. Before noon, two 
hundred and fifty French, every male of the colony of seven hundred souls on the 
St. Catherine's — except a tailor and a carpenter, spared to use their crafts for the 
Indians, and two soldiers who were aAvay in the woods — slept in death. A like fate 
fell upon the colonies in the Yazoo, on the Washita at Sicily Island, and near the site 
of the present town of Monroe. 

This dreadful blow filled the province with fear and mourning. But the revenge 
of the Frenchmen only ended in the utter extermination of the tribe. An expedition 
was sent at once against them, their fortress besieged, their prisoners and spoil 
wrested from them, and the nation only by a dextrous manoeuver evacuated the 
stronghold by night, and fled to the westward. A second expedition ended in the 
reduction of a second fortress, defended by enormous earthworks and embracing 
four hundred acres, which they had erected at the confluence of the Washita and 
Little Rivers, and in the captivity of their principal chiefs and more than four hun- 
dred of the nation — nearly half of it. Yet unsubdued, and as fierce as ever, the 
remnant of their warriors having successfully attacked the French post at Natchi- 
toches, were in turn assaulted by St. Denis, the commander there, and again dis- 
persed with severe loss. The chiefs and others taken in the second expedition were 
sold into slavery in St. Domingo. The scattered relics then left, incorporated them- 
selves with various Indian tribes, and the Natchez nation was extinct; although 
some few individuals of it have been seen in the town of Natchez even within the 
memory of those now living, still distinguished by the commanding form, lofty stat- 
ure, and high, retreating forehead of their race. 

But the war, although entirely successful, had drawn heavily upon the strength of 
the colon3^ For three years every nerve had been strained to the utmost to furnish 



264 



THE MISSISSIPPI COMPANY GIVES UP ITS CHARTEK. 



men and supplies for expedition after expedition. The Chouacas, a small tribe 
of kin to the Natchez, had been exterminated on suspicion, by way of lateral 

security. Two dangerous 
domestic plots had to be 
quelled ; and amid fear and 
exertions, watchings and 
anxiety at home and waste- 
ful war abroad, the arts of 
peace had but ill thriven. 
The Mississippi Company, 
at last quite disheartened, 
gave up its charter, and 
remitted Louisiana into the 
hands of the crown. The 
colony, although always a 
source of loss to the com- 
pany, had grown, under 
their management, from 
seven hundred to five thou- 
sand souls, and had assured 
its footing upon the lands 
of Louisiana. 

A few years later, a cam- 
paign was resolved upon 
against the Chickasaws. 
This warlike nation had 
long been inclined to the 
English interest; had af- 
forded refuge and counte- 
nance to numbers of the 
dispersed Natchez, and in 
conjunction with them, and 
stimulated by British tra- 
ders and emissaries, had 
committed many outrages against the French. Growing bolder, they had latterly 
destroyed the thoroughfare for trade and passage on the Mississippi ; and, doubtless 




1' FOR LIFE. • 
An incident in the retreat from the French post at Natchitoches. 



CAMPAIGN AGAINST THE CIIICKASAWS. 265 

with British advice, even stirred up the negroes near New Orleans to a third insur- 
rection, which was rapidly ramifying and ripening, when it was discovered and 
cruelly quenched in the lives of its ringleaders. 

Bienville, now aged yet still ambitious, was sent to Louisiana to govern the prov- 
ince and command the expedition. Trusting in his old renown among the Indians, 
he sent a haughty demand to the Chickasaws for the surrender of the Natchez among 
them, which was coolly refused, and Bienville forthwith prepared to inflict upon them 
a summary chastisement — nothing less than the devastation of all their country with 
an irresistible force. He concerted with D'Artaguette, commandant at Fort Char- 
tres in the district of thelUinois, a combined plan of operations; D'Artaguette was to 
come down the Mississippi with all the French and Indians he could muster, and cross 
to the Chickasaw country; Bienville, on his part, moving by water to Mobi^le and up 
the Tombigbee, was to meet him there about May 10th, 1736. Accordingly, bur- 
dened with stores and provisions, Bienville moved up the river to Fort Tombigbee, 
newly constructed as a military depot, and thence advancing a fortnight later than 
the day set for the junction with D'Artaguette, hearing nothing of him, vexed and 
disappointed, yet without any alternative, delivered the assault upon the Chickasaw 
towns with his own little army of six hundred French and twelve hundred Choctaw 
allies. But in spite of French valor and savage impetuosity, of arrow and musket 
and hand-grenade, of two desperate attacks, the indomitable Chickasaws, fortified with 
the help of British traders, of whom numbers were within their intrenchments, beat 
them off with tremendous loss. In terrible mortification, hearing no news from D'Ar- 
taguette, hopeless of success without artillery, against fortifications unexpectedly 
strong, the disappointed old chief dismissed his savage allies with gifts and good 
words, retreated to his fort, cast the artillery there into the river, and defeated and 
ashamed, returned to New Orleans. There he presently received the bitter news 
that the gallant 3'oung D'Artaguette, having kept his appointment, and on his part 
hearing nothing from his superior, had waited, encamped in sight of the enemy, until 
he could no longer restrain his Indian auxiliaries, and had against his own judg- 
ment attacked the foe. Driving the stubborn Chickasaws from one fortified village, 
they occupied a second. A second furious assault dislodged them from that ; and 
taking refuge in a third, the valor of the assailants had already a third time decided 
the battle, when in the moment of victory their daring j'oung leader received first one 
wound and then another, and fell. His unstable Indians, seeing this, turned and fled ; 
the obstinate Chickasaws, thus relieved, precipitated themselves upon the thinning ranks 



266 BIEXVILLE RETURNS TO FRANCE IN DISGRACE. 

of the French, who, few, wearied and deserted, were forced to follow. Under the com- 
mand of Voisin, a lad of sixteen, they retreated seventy-five miles with their enemy 
yet hanging close upon them; a hundred and thirty-five miles before they ate, and 
bearino- with them the strongest of the wounded. D'Artaguette, his companion, Yin- 
cennnes, his priest, the Jesuit Senat, and others of his men, to the number of nine- 
teen, were captured, and at first well treated, with a view to ransom or negotiation 
with Bienville. But upon his discomfeiture the hapless men were burned alive with 
all the triumphant ingenuity of Indian torture. 

Bienville planned another campaign ; he could not rest until he had punished the 
Chickasaws, revenged his lost countrymen, and vindicated his own and his country's 
fame. So he organized a second expedition, and this time he ascended the Mis- 
sissippi, designing to fall upon the foe from the north. But the old man was un- 
equal to the occasion ; he had lost the tremendous and untiring energy which had so 
long been the protection and life of the province, and delays, and consequent sickness 
and famine, enfeebled his army even before the real advance of the expedition. Hav- 
ing Avasted almost a whole year, a phantom of an army — all that was left — ad- 
vanced and met the Chickasaws; its commander, by Bienville's authority, gladly 
seized the opportunity to make a treaty with the Indians, who thought this insignifi- 
cant force only the advanced guard of the French. And so a second time his men 
and stores wasted, disappointed and chagrined, even more shamefully than before, 
Bienville returned down the river to New Orleans. 

The Chickasaws have never been conquered. De Soto, Bienville, D'Artaguette, and 
Vaudreuil, Bienville's successor, who repeated the attempt some years later with like 
results, all failed most memorably. Their Indian foes never overcame them ; they 
have as yet been impregnable in their savage patriotism. 

Bienville, in disgrace and sorrow, returned to France, superseded by the Marquis 
de Vaudreuil, and terminated in sadness and misfortune a long and honorable life. 

Under the wise administration of the Marquis de Vaudreuil, and of his successor 
M. de Kerlerec, the province of Louisiana flourished greatly. Within ten years 
after the close of the Chickasaw war, the French king was undisputed master of the 
whole vast valley of the Mississippi. His name and authority were reverenced by all 
the tribes; his officers and messengers governed and traveled with safety and honor; 
and under the shadow of his protecting power, population and wealth rapidly accumu- 
lated. The vast sweep of territory made by the two immense vallej's of the Mis- 
sissippi and St. Lawrence, formed a great barrier around that narrow coast-wise 



A SEASON OF PROSPERITY. 



267 



strip on the comparatively barren eastern slope of the Alleghanies, which included 
the Eno:lish possessions ; and there seemed to be every reason for supposing that 
French power must remain immeasurabl}^ preponderant upon the continent of North 
America. 

So enormous a portion of the earth's meridian did the province of Louisiana cover, 
that it possessed that almost certain guarantee for continual integral existence, an 
interior commerce almost or entirely self-sufficient and self-sustaining. Yearly the 
number of keel-boats and barges increased, on which there came down from the 
upper valley, flour, pork, bacon, hides, leather, tallow, bear's oil, furs, lumber, all 
the products of fertile temperate regions ; and in which there went up the equiva- 
lents: rice, indigo, tobacco, sugar, cotton; for all these rich staples were already 
naturalized in the colony and on the lower banks of the Mississippi, as well as the 
manufactured merchan- 

disc of distant Europe. ■r.>,-^m''&^ms^ "^ , - n 

There was once or twice 
a destructive tornado, 
or a cruel frost; but 
the strong province no -^^ 
longer felt such a dis- 
pensation as anything 
more than a light mis- 
fortune. 

M. de Vaudreuil, to 
check the growing in- 
cursions of the Chicka- ^"^ KEEL-BOAT. 

saws, led against them the expedition which has already been alluded to; but the war- 
like savages were fortified even better than before. From their inaccessible holds, 
which were so regularly and strongly palisaded, ditched, and flanked with block- 
houses, as to be impregnable without artillery, they safely beheld the devastation of 
their crops and their wigwams; a futile vengeance of little significance to them, and 
of less to Vaudreuil, who had to carry his unsatisfied wrath back with him, and un- 
laureled to digest it as he miofht. 

In 1754, however, commenced the old French war; that savage eight years' struggle 
between England and France, which was to wrench the supremacy upon this con- 
tinent from the latter power, and to detain it for a few years in the hands of the 
former, as if in temporary trust for the use of the strong republic in whose grasp it 




2f58 THE ACADIAN REFUGEES ARRIVE, AND 

now remains. All along the vast frontier line, England and France meddled with 
frontiersmen and savages; and all along the line the hot but flickering flame of 
Indian wars began to burn. The chief struggle, however, was in Canada; the settlers 
in Louisiana and the Illinois, girt by wide and pathless forests, remained untouched 
by the war, and peacefully pursued their farming and their trade. The only sorrow 
that fell upon them was the embarrassment arising from the inundation of govern- 
ment drafts and notes set afloat in payment for supplies, which it could not redeem, 
and which hampered and perplexed the business of the valley until the end of 
the war. 

One day, in the early part of this war, a fleet of boats and barges was descried 
descending the yellow current of the river. It was moored at the city, and a toil- 
w^orn band of Frenchmen, ragged, penniless, famine-struck, along with sad wives 
and mournful children, disembarked. They entered the astonished town as sup- 
pliants for charity. Their doleful story w^as soon told. Nearly three thousand miles 
away, upon the bleak northern shores of Acadia, first under the mild government of 
their native France, and afterwards under the harsher but unresisted dominion of the 
English, they had inhabited the pleasant homes wiiich their brave industry had con- 
quered from the inhospitable soil and climate. The English court, on the heartless, 
baseless and cruel pretense that these simple-hearted hahitans would rise against 
their conquerors, in aid of their brethren in Canada, deliberately resolved upon the 
fiendish measure of rooting up, robbing, and casting forth into helpless beggary the 
people of the entire province. Upon this errand came an army to seize them, and a 
fleet to carry them. Helpless and unarmed, resistance was impossible, undreamed of. 
Lest, however, they should seek to return to their desolate homes, their money and 
property were stripped from them, and those homes w^ere burned before their very 
eyes. Thus, homeless and destitute, the stupefied wretches were hurried aboard the 
fleet, and in miserable groups, as pirates use their victims, landed naked and despair- 
ing on one and another barren sand-hill all along the desert coast of New Jersey, 
Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia. 

The compassion of the neighboring people and authorities furnished them the 
necessary succor. But not able to endure the companionship or even the tongue of 
these subjects of the tyrant power, with a desperate hardihood nearly allied to the 
resistless stings of instinct, they gathered up the little resources which the friendly 
Anglo-Americans gave them, set their faces steadfastly westward, and in spite of 
peril and hardship, traversed a thousand miles of primeval forests; embai'ked on the 



SETTLE ON THE "ACADIAN COAST. 



269 



Ohio, and floated down two thousand miles more to the settlements of their happier 
kinsmen . 

The whole city rose up to meet them. Every heart and home was opened wide to 
receive the unfortunate wanderers, to minister to their wants, to relieve their sor- 










Charlevoix's descent of the Mississippi rivek. 

rows. Public benevolence vied with private charity in the noble strife of kindness. 
An allotment of land was granted to every family, and until they should be settled 
in the safe possession of means for their own support, to every household was dealt 



270 THE GAUL RELINQUISHES THE GREAT VALLEY. 

out from the ro^^al store-houses, seeds, husbandman's tools, and daily sufficient ra- 
tions for food. Thus was settled, next above the "German Coast" which had been 
allotted to the refugees from the Arkansas settlement, that stretch of the Mississippi 
shore still known as the "Acadian Coast." That neighborhood yet contains many of 
the descendants of those wanderers from the north, and in their hearts yet burns 
the fire of inextinguishable hereditary enmity against the nation of their oppressors — 
the English. 

The war raged fiercely in the north ; and over one stronghold after another the 
British lion replaced the white flag of France. Large numbers of Canadians, fleeing 
from the hated dominion of their conquerors, following upon the track of the Aca- 
dians or across the well-known route through the Illinois country, came down the 
river; some halting and settling, however, on the Upper Mississippi; and thus the 
population of the province received a large and valuable augmentation at the expense 
of Britain. 

In 1763, by the treaty of Paris, the beaten and humbled kingdom of France, ex- 
hausted with the long and distant struggle, unwillingly yielded the prize of the strife, 
and ceded to England the enormous territory of Canada, and the whole Mississippi 
Valley east of the river, except a small portion south of Bayou Iberville (or Man- 
chac), including New Orleans. By the same treaty, Spain ceded to England the 
whole of Florida; and thus did Great Britain gain all North America east of the 
Mississippi. 

The French posts in the Illinois, and Forts Rosalie, Baton Rouge, Toulouse, and 
Coiide, Avere soon in the hands of English garrisons; and the southern portion of the 
new acquisition being erected into the governments of East and West Florida, the 
provincial organizations of the English were speedily completed upon a sort of mixed 
footing, half military and half civil. Many of the French, impatient of the English 
yoke, fled across to the western side of the Mississippi, or within the immediate de- 
pendencies of New Orleans, that they might still live beneath the beloved rule of 
their native monarch. But the rumor crept about that Western Louisiana, too, had 
passed away from the power of the French king; that province, people and all, had 
been given secretly into the hands of Spain., As the story gained consistency and 
belief, murmurs of dissatisfaction and anger inci'eased ; and when at last the definite 
confirmation of the report came in dispatches to M. Abadie, the governor «fZ interim, 
the disappointed inhabitants were in so dangerous and wrathful a ferment that the 
Spaniards hesitated to attempt taking possession, and for many months awaited the 
discontinuance of the excitement. But it rather increased. Conscious of dutiful 



SPAIN TAKES POSSESSION. 271 

and loving services to the French crown, unable to understand the reason of this 
heartless diplomatic transfer, hurt and angry, yet still hoping that the misfortune 
was not inevitable, they met together and appointed deputies to present the earnest 
and humble petition of the province that they might by some means be retained 
within the paternal rule of France, Their delegate, M. Milhet, a wealthy and re- 
spected merchant, reaching Paris, enlisted the aged Bienville, now eighty-seven years 
old, in his cause, and together they laid their entreaties and those of the province be- 
fore the prime minister. But "reasons of State" have little to do with the rights, 
or wishes, or love, of a people. The transfer was a foregone conclusion. The min- 
ister, resolved upon the measure, artfully managed to keep M. Milhet from an audi- 
ence with the king, and he returned disappointed and discouraged. A second time 
he w^ent, and a second time came hopeless home. Don Antonio de Ulloa, with a 
Spanish force, at last entered New Orleans, but porieiving the depth of the feeling 
he had to encounter, he delayed presenting his commission, and waited for more 
troops. They arrived ; yet still he delayed. Nearly three years had passed since 
the province was thus given away, and yet the popular dissatisfaction rather in- 
creased. A strong fleet was heard of at Havana, and it was feared that it was in- 
tended for the province; the people were upon the verge of armed insurrection. 
Ulloa, a temporizing man, being at length called upon by the superior council of the 
province either to produce his authority or to leave the countr}^, determined to do the 
latter, and embarked on one of the Spanish vessels in the river. The populace cut 
the cables' by night, the vessel dropped down the stream and not returning, her con- 
sorts followed. Once more a petition was sent to the French king ; but now a strong 
Spanish force, under the stern and energetic Don Alexander O'Keilly, was already 
on the way to the province. With short preliminary delay, to advise the authorities 
of his approach, he ascended the Mississippi, anchored before the city, disembarked 
his troops, and in public, before the displeased and silent populace, but amidst the 
cheers of the soldiery, formally received possession of Western Louisiana for the 
crown of Spain. The French flag was lowered, the Spanish hoisted in its stead, and 
the Spanish authority was forthwith installed throughout the province. 

The aggregate population of Western Louisiana alone at the time of the transfer 
was more than thirteen thousand five hundred souls ; and the exports of the province 
for the past year had reached the amount of a quarter of a million of dollars. 

O'Reilly, the Spanish Governor — a true Spaniard, haughty, passionate, gloomy 
and false — promised oblivion for offenses past, and pardon to all who should submit 
to his authority. Yet almost his first official act was the sudden arrest of four of the 



272 o'reilly's iron rule. 

most prominent French citizens, who were treacherously seized while at an entertain- 
ment at O'Reilly's house upon his own invitation, and hurried away to a place 
of military imprisonment. Within a few days the tyrant unmasked himself still further 
by arresting eight more well-known citizens. Of these twelve, one was murdered by 
his guards in attempting to reach his frantic wife, who strove to visit him in prison ; 
five were shot in public, and their estates confiscated; four imprisoned in the dun- 
geons of the Moro at Havana, and two only acquitted. 

O'Reilly having thus substituted the silence of fear for the murmurs of dissatisfac- 
tion, proceeded to abolish all the French forms of government, and to erect the Span- 
ish courts and municipal institutions instead, both in city and country. Spanish be- 
came the ofiicial language in keeping all records and proceedings ; and this change 
having been fully completed, many Spanish immigrants began to enter the province, 
even so numerously as to produce for a time a serious scarcity of provisions. 

In this change of laws, the ferocious and despotic governor paid no heed to the 
customs or preferences of the French ; and established so many regulations of a char- 
acter oppressive to them, that many of the most valuable citizens of that nation fled out 
of the country to St. Domingo. Hereupon the governor refused to grant further pass- 
ports, and thus forced them to remain under the tyranny of his harsh administration. 

O'Reilly's conduct, however, brought upon him the severe displeasure of his sov- 
ereign; and at the end of one year he was recalled to Spain in disgrace. 

Under the administration of a succession of able and moderate governors, Unzaga, 
Galvez — who enlarged his government by re-conquering from England for Spain the 
temporary possession of all Florida — Miro and Carondelet, the government of Louisi- 
ana was of a wise and liberal character. The oppressive restrictions of O'Reill}^ were 
rescinded, and many judicious measures w^ere taken to confirm and increase the 
strength and prosperity of the province. 

Under Governor Miro's administration, the first and only attempt was made to in- 
troduce into the province that terrific auxiliary agent of Catholic polity, the Romish 
inquisition. Under his mild, wise and popular management of the province, the 
Pope, not satisfied with the exclusive ofiicial recognition of the Roman Catholic faith, 
and with the support of its establishment by government funds, thought proper to 
provide for the pestilent heresies which it was apprehended would creep in from the 
United States, by appointing a clergyman of New Orleans, Commissary of the Holy 
Oflice. Miro, under the royal instructions, notified the ecclesiastic of the king's 
prohibition of the exercise of this authority within the province, and forbade him 
therefrom ; but the priest, on the usual plea of clerical usurpers, that he must obey 



THE POPE S REPRESENTATIVE SENT BACK TO EUROPE. 



273 



God rather than man, coolly proceeded to the performance of the interdicted duties. 
Miro, however, took prompt measures to enforce his orders ; and the refractory father 
was awakened at midnight by an otEcer with eighteen grenadiers, against whom his 
spiritual weapons were not availing. He was quickly stowed aboard a vessel just ready 




A NEGRO VILLAGE IN LOUISIANA. 



to sail for Spain, and by daylight next morning was safely on his way to Europe. The 
discouraged Romish see made no further efforts to introduce this instrument of pon- 
tificial tyranny into Louisiana. 

But now the utmost settlements and still more advanced pioneers of yet another 
civilization began to press closer and closer upon the Spanish frontiers. All the 



274 FRANCE DEMANDS, AND 

vast valley east of the Mississippi, from the distant northern lakes down to the 
present borders of Georgia and the southern line of Tennessee, was filling up with 
hunters, traders, and close behind them, with the steadily advancing ranks of agri- 
cultural settlers. Agricultural products increased and multiplied; and by necessary 
consequence, the swelling currents of trade sought their natural outlet by the river, 
and their natural depot at New Orleans. The free and bold Anglo-Americans w^ould 
brino- a vast commerce yearly to that city, but they were unaccustomed to restrictions 
upon trade, or to the tedious formalisms of the Spanish authorities. These last, on 
their part, were exceedingly apprehensive of the effects to be feared from the con- 
tact of such men with the inflammable and even yet unreconciled French Creoles, 
and especially of their securing a footing as landed settlers w^ithin the province. 
The laws respecting land grants were ordered to be most strictly construed in the 
impediment of any applicants from the United States. A most irritating and vexa- 
tious system of inspections and arbitrary duties was set up along the river, and en- 
forced by fine or confiscation. The Spanish ofiicials who, with their forms and 
ceremonies, had imported at least a full share of the shameful corruptions of their 
native tribunals, were most prone to this latter penalty; that they might turn the 
proceeds into their private treasures instead of that of the State. And, moreover, 
there was a long dispute and reluctant delay on the part of Spain before withdrawing 
from the "Natchez District" east of the river, although it was confessedly north of 
the true boundary between the United States and the Spanish province of Florida. 

The farmers of Kentucky and Ohio, and all the wide northwest, grew more and 
more impatient; and the hot-blooded Georgians insisted upon the occupation of their 
rightful donuxin to the westward. They vowed revenge against Spain, and they even 
threatened the federal government for delaying to secure for them their natural 
and necessary rights. The Spanish governors, taking advantage of their circum- 
stances, intrigued long and industriously to induce the young commonwealths within 
the valley to secede, and either swear allegiance to the Spanish crown, or to set up 
a union for themselves under its protection. There was a party for each of these 
hopeful schemes. There was another and a stronger one for the armed invasion of 
Louisiana, and the seizure by force of a right, so clear and so pre-eminently necessary, 
as that of a free outlet for commerce ; so strong, indeed, that the federal government 
was more than once on the extreme verge of adopting their enterprise, or of forcibly 
preventing it. Spanish agents were busy here and there ; and the well-known Wil- 
kinson was the chief center of an inextricable net of intrigue, actuated probably by 
many mixed motives, good and bad. While vexed with the progress of these rest- 



SPAIN DELIVERS, BUT 



275 



less, fearless and ungovernable Anglo-Americans,- the Spanish court was summoned 
by Napoleon Bonaparte to hand the province of Louisiana over to him. Weak and 




THE SALE OF LOUISIANA. 

helpless, it had no resource but to obey. But finding his hands even over-full with 
the business which his enemies cut out for him on the continent of Europe, Napoleon 



276 "UNCLE SAM SECURES THE PRIZE, 

resolved to give up his scheme of. an armed occupation of Louisiana, and negotiated 
a sale of it to the United States for sums and payments equivalent in all to sixteen 
millions of dollars; and so the formal cession of the province by Spain to France 
was completed between Governor Salcedo and the Marquis de Casa Calvo, commis- 
sioners on the part of Spain, and M. Laussat, French commissioner, November 30th, 
1803. The French frame of government was barely instituted before it was super- 
seded ; and on the 20th of the following December, Governor William C. C. Claiborne re- 
ceived possession of Louisiana for the United States, amidst great display and rejoicing. 

Thus, after an intermittent possession during more than a century, counting from 
the landing of D'Iberville upon the sands of Dauphine Island, and for about a century 
and a quarter from La Salle's formal ceremony of possession, the French rule in 
Louisiana came to a definite termination, and the French population, as well as the 
small Spanish element, became in form incorporated with the dominant Anglo- 
American race. But even at this time the French Creoles are the mass of the pop- 
ulation in many of the Louisiana parishes, and among them the French tongue and 
many French customs and characteristics are so affectionately and carefully main- 
tained that they are yet a peculiar, though a peaceful and law-abiding people. A 
large section of New Orleans itself is inhabited almost exclusively by Creoles ; the 
local laws of the State yet contain a very decided, if not predominant, infusion of 
the old Roman jurisprudence transferred from the Corpus Juris Civilis, the Pandects 
and the code of Justinian, through the French codes, to the statute book; and the 
laws and public proceedings and records of Louisiana are published in duplicate, in 
French and English. 

Louisiana, as first claimed for France by La Salle, in 1682, under that name 
(which, however, had been selected and bestowed by "The Great Liar," as the French 
called Hennepin, a year earlier), is defined in the 2>^'oces verbal of the ceremony of 
taking possession, substantially as including the whole valley of the Mississippi and 
its tributaries, from the Ohio Eiver to the Gulf. Upon the double cession of this vast 
territory to Great Britain and Spain, in 1763, that portion of the valley east of the river 
lost the name of Louisiana, which consequently now designated the Mississippi basin 
west of the river, together with that small district east of it, called the Island of New 
Orleans, and an unsettled claim over the present State of Texas, to the Colorado River. 

Don Bernard Galvez subsequently annexed, by conquest from England, the 
"Natchez" and "Baton Rouge" districts, thereby carrying the boundary of Louisi- 
ana east of the Mississippi to some distance north of the thirty-first degree of 
north latitude, and eastward nearly to the present boundary of Georgia. 



TRADITIONS OF THE FRENCH OCCUPATION. 



277 



The subsequent unwilling session to the United States of the northern portion of 
this territory, finally consummated in 1798, and the acquisition of the province by Na- 
poleon, at which time Louisiana east of the river, except the Island of New Orleans, 
was annexed to Florida, again restricted these limits. Lower Louisiana, upon organ- 
ization as a Territory of the United States, was called the Territory of Orleans, and 
at last, upon its admission to the Union as a State, the name of Louisiana was con- 
ferred upon that Territory, some additions being made to it upon the north and east. 

The annals of the French occupation of Louisiana contain many of those curious 
traditions and narratives of adventure and character which lend so deep a tinge of 



J^OMINIOH of CaNAO^ 




MAP OF THE LOUISIANA PURCHASE. 



romance to the early days of colonial commonwealths. Indians, Frenchmen, Ger- 
mans, Spaniards, English, Scotch, Irish, and all manner of half-breeds and mixed 
bloods, trading, hunting, fighting, intriguing, wandering or settling, as the case might 
be, pass in fantastic confusion across the scene, and add all the interest of human 
passions, in their fiercest play, to the wild beauty and savage grandeur of the varied 
landscape of that vast region. Brief relations of some few of these early tales will 
both relieve the gravity of the historical narrative, and supply vivid representations 
of the life and manners of the times, as well as indispensable items toward the full 
understanding even of the present situation of the country. 



278 A PKINCESS IN DISGUISE. 

The Chevalier D'Aubant, an officer in the garrison at Mobile, observed one day a 
female of humble dress, yet lady-like carriage, whose features he seemed to have seen 
before. Keflectine upon the varied sights of his erratic life, he was startled at the 
idea that the face of this nameless emigrant, who had come to Mobile with the Ger- 
man settlers for John Law's distant grant upon the Arkansas River, was one which 
he had seen at St. Petersburg. She was, he could but believe, the same whom in that 
distant capital he had seen in high place, and surrounded with all the semi-barbaric 
splendor of the court of the great czar Peter — the wife of the czarowitz or heir ap- 
parent — the luckless Alexis Petrowitz, the victim of his brutal father's mad passions. 
Growing more and more certain of his opinion, he accosted the fair fugitive, yet a 
delicate and beautiful lady, with chivalrous respect. Confused at the recognition, she 
confessed that he was right ; and upon his promise to preserve her secret, she told 
him a wild, adventurous story ; how her half crazy husband, the czarowitz, had so vilely 
abused her, that as the only effectual escape from him she had pretended death ; had 
been actually entombed, and freed from her grave a few hours afterwards; had fled in 
poverty and obscurity, she scarcely knew whither, from the splendid terrors of her 
frightful princess-ship. Beautiful she was ; accomplished and good D'Aubant knew or 
believed her to be, and his sincere and ardent courtship very speedily prevailed upon her 
to marry him. He afterwards held various commands in the province, during one of 
which, at Fort Toulouse, near the present town of Wetumpka, she long occupied a 
little cabin near the fort, where she used to pass many hours in sporting with the 
Indian children. She was an attached and faithful wife, following her husband 
in his wandering military life to France and then to the Isle of Bourbon, in the In- 
dian Ocean, where he died. She then returned to Paris with a little daughter, and in 
1771 ended, in deep poverty, a long and mysteriously eventful life. 

In the same town of Mobile, where the disguised princess landed, there died, in 
1751, b}' unjust and barbarous torture, another person, whose character, prowess, ad- 
ventures, and fate were yet more characteristic of the French colonial regime. 

There was a French woodsman and solitarv hunter named Beaudrot, a man of giant 
size, of tremendous strength and endurance, of great renown for skill and bravery, 
and an especial favorite with the Indians. He was also much beloved by Bienville, the 
famous governor, and often employed by him upon secret and dangerous missions of 
importance among the Creeks and other tribes, many of whose dialects and all of 
whose customs he perfectly understood. Endowed with the genuine kindness of 
heart which so often characterizes men of great physical strength, he had repeatedly 



BEAUDROT, THE HUNTER. 279 

used his peculiar advantages in the interest of captives among the savages — saving 
more lives tlian one, even if the ransom cost him all the profits of his rude trafiic. 

Beaudrot was one night returning alone through the forest upon what was called 
the Chattahoochie trail, from Fort Toulouse, to the commandant of which post he 
had carried a letter from Governor Bienville. The night came down upon him far 
within the forest, for indeed the journey was of many days. The Aveary and hardy 
wanderer, not kindling any fire for fear of discovery by Indians, according to his 
custom when alone, ensconced himself close beneath a huge pine log, and slept with 
the light sleep of the Indian hunter upon the dry pine leaves, his head upon his 
knap-sack. Soft steps awakened him ; his quick ears distinguished the guttural sounds 
of a low conversation between Indians, not so distant but that he could judge of 
their numbers, and discern their purpose and circumstances. They kindled a fire of 
light wood; the hidden giant was within the circle of its brilliant glare, and but for 
the shelter of his log, had surely been discovered. Stealthily peering from his conceal- 
ment, he saw three stout warriors eating their supper ; but his kind and brave heart 
beat quick at the sight of a white man, their prisoner, bound, and so tied to a tree as 
to be obliged to stand upright. The Indians completed their frugal meal with small 
care for the appetite of their prize ; and leaving him to stand in sleepless weariness, 
all night, they fell asleep. Beaudrot had recognized the prisoner, a Frenchman own- 
ing a small plantation on the Tensas River; and waiting impatiently until the war- 
riors were snoring in sound slumber, he noiselessly approached. His first impulse 
was to discover himself, loose the captive, give him a pistol, and with him to attack 
the sleepers. But the poor frightened fellow would cr}^ out at sight of him; and the 
risk forbade the scheme. So, creeping along, he managed to place himself in such 
a position that his heavily charged carbine covered two of the warriors lying close 
together. He fired; both of them were killed ; the third, leaping instinctively from 
sleep to the attack, forgetting his gun, and armed only with his hatchet. Beaudrot 
fired a pistol into his stomach ; the Creek whooped and fell dead. Beaudrot now 
hastened to untie his bewildered fellow-countryman, who, however, informed him 
that the three warriors were only a detached party ; and that ten others returning 
from a further expedition against the settlements were doubtless not far off upon 
the trail. Beaudrot hereupon made straight for the Alabama River with the res- 
cued prisoner; built a raft, and after floating some distance down the stream, pulled 
the frail vehicle in pieces, set the fragments adrift, and the two fugitives plunged 
deep into a dreary swamp on the further bank. It was daylight; and quite secure 



280 MUTINY ON CAT ISLAND. 

atrainst pursuit by these prompt and cunning precautions, they called a halt, and the 
intrepid woodsman revived his friend and himself from his slender store of bread and 
dried venison, and by the judicious administration of some small draughts from a cer- 
tain little bottle of brandy. Thus refreshed, and with a few hours' rest, they set out 
again, and Beaudrot's skill supplied them with game, until, after a tedious march 
through the forest, they arrived in safety at Mobile. 

By such deeds was the valiant Beaudrot endeared to the men of Mobile and there- 
abouts. But at last, upon some unjust pretext, during the administration of Gov- 
ernor Kerlerec, some years after, we find him imprisoned at a French frontier post 
on Cat Island, by the tyrannical command of a monster of the Chopart school, 
named Duroux, who had long exercised the most degrading oppression over the help- 
less privates of his command. He forced his soldiers to cultivate his gardens ; to 
burn coal ; to make lime ; and sold the produce of their labor for his own profit. 
Those who refused the unsoldierly duty, he would have tied naked to trees, to endure 
the poisonous stings of the bloodthirsty insects of the swamp. Some of those thus 
tortured fled to New Orleans with their complaints ; but apparently from some fan- 
cied necessity, such as often governs military discipline — of maintaining authority, 
however abused — Kerlerec sent them back to their duty unsatisfied. Duroux now in- 
creased his abuses, and deprived them of all food except spoiled bread.. The wretched 
men, furious at their misery, conspired against their tyrant, slew him, stripped the 
corpse and cast it out unburied into the sea ; and then rifling the stores at the little 
fort, for once they enjoyed sumptuous fare. 

But after such mutiny they could no longer remain in the French colony, so they 
released Beaudrot from the prison, and compelled him to act as their guide towards 
the English in Georgia. Doubtless, he was not much grieved at the opportunity; 
and led them in good faith through distant and circuitous routes to the Indian town 
of Coweta on the Chattahoochie, and there receiving from them a formal certificate 
that he was not concerned in the death of Duroux, and had acted by compulsion in 
assisting in their flight, they dismissed him, and he returned quietly to his home near 
Mobile. 

Months afterward he was suddenly imprisoned by the commandant there ; and in 
the dungeon he found three of the soldiers whom he had assisted to escape. Ling- 
ering unwisely among the hospitable Indians about Coweta, and the circumstances com- 
ing to the knowledge of the authorities, a detachment from Fort Toulouse had ar- 
rested the poor fellows, and after due examination and communication the order for 



BARBAROUS CRUELTIES IN ENFORCING MILITARY DISCIPLINE. 281 

Beaudrot's arrest had been sent from New Orleans to Mobile in a sealed package by 
the hands of two of his own sons, who were thus the ignorant means of their father's 
death. He was condemned by a court-martial, in spite of his certificate and other 
testimony ; and amid the sympathy and horror-struck grief of the people of Mobile, 
was broken on the wheel — that is, bound naked to a cart-wheel erected for the pur- 
pose upon a post through its axis, his limbs broken one after another by blows from 
an iron bar, and so left to die. A fate even more frightful awaited the wretched sol- 
diers. They were privates of the Swiss regiment of Hallwyl; and according to an 
ancient traditional barbarous usage extant among those troops, having been brought 
forth upon the esplanade before Fort Conde, they were each nailed down in a tight 
wooden cofiin, and sawed asunder, man, box and all, with a cross-cut saw, by two ser- 
geants. These unrelenting and hideous punishments exhibit the terrific and unscru- 
pulous rigor with which military discipline was maintained in those distant regions, as 
well as the obedient and timid character of a population who could patiently acqui- 
esce in them. 

Bossu, a captain of marines, published, in 1771, his Travels in Louisiana, which 
contain many amusing accounts of his experiences while stationed there in the days 
of which we are speaking. Upon one occasion, having conducted a detachment to 
Fort Toulouse, he learned a characteristic incident illustrative of the Jesuits and of 
their relations to the French military ofiicers. Montberaut, commanding the fort, 
a gentleman, possessed — like so many others of his nation — both of the attainments 
and manners of a polished and courtly gentleman, and of the seemingly incongruous 
qualifications which led him into a sworn brotherhood and great influence with the 
tribes, despised the Jesuits, who were stationed at the fort, and was always at enmity 
with them. Father Le Roy, a Jesuit, wrote to the governor, abusing Montberaut 
without stint, and advising his removal. The messenger showed the letter to the 
commandant, who quietly pocketed it. Meeting the priest next morning, the rev- 
erend gentleman, as Bossu slily says, "according to the political principles of these 
good fathers," was excessively civil; whereupon Montberaut took occasion incident- 
ally to ask him if he had written anything unfavorable to him. The Jesuit swore he 
had not; whereupon Montberaut called him a cheat and an imposter, and nailed up 
his letter at the gate of the fort; after which time, according to Bossu, there were 
no Jesuits to be found among the Creeks and Alabamas. 

The country inhabited by those tribes, Bossu found exceedingly lovely and fertile, 
and thickly peopled by hospitable and happy savages. A. J. Pickett, from whose 



28-2 "FINGERS WERE MADE BEFORE FORKS. 

entertaininty History of Alabama we have obtained many of the facts here narrated, 
referring to the wild beauty of that delicious region, unaffectedly and quaintly thus 
laments over the so-called "improvements" of late introduced: 

"But now the whole scene is changed. The country is no longer half so beauti- 
ful ; the waters of Alabama begin to be discolored; the forests have been cut down ; 
steamers have destroyed the finny race ; deer bound not over the plain ; the sluggish 
bear has ceased to wind through the swamps ; the bloody panther does not spring 
upon his prey ; wolves have ceased to howl upon the hills ; birds cannot be seen in 
the branches of the trees ; graceful warriors guide no longer their well-shaped canoes, 
and beautiful squaws loiter not upon the plain, nor pick the delicious berries. Now 
vast fields of cotton, noisy steamers, huge rafts of lumber, towns reared for business, 
disagreeable corporation laws, harassing courts of justice, mills, factories, and every- 
thing else that is calculated to destroy the beauty of a country, and rob a man of his 
quiet and native independence, present themselves to our view," 

While Bossu was at the fort, advices were brought that the Emperor of Coweta — 
for the early writers distributed imperial and kingly honors on every hand among the 
petty forest patriarchs with wondrous prof useness — was about to honor the French 
with a visit. Bossu walked forth to meet this mighty potentate, and as he took him 
by the hand, the guard who accompanied him discharged their muskets, and a salute 
was also fired from the fort, to the excessive gratification of the emperor, who, like 
many distinguished men now living, found great glory in a noise and a bad smell. 
As he alighted from his horse, and advanced with deliberate and majestic pace toward 
the fort, the Europeans walking behind him, enjoyed an excellent opportunity of ob- 
serving his costume, which consisted of a heavy plume of black feathers in his top- 
knot, a scarlet uniform coat most gorgeously bedizened with tinsel lace, a white linen 
shirt modestly flowing from beneath it, and two bare, copper-colored legs. They 
found some difficulty, according to Bossu, in preserving the gravit}' proper for the 
occasion ; although they might possibly have been puzzled to establish the logical 
relation between true grandeur and a pair of breeches. 

Sitting down to a state feast prepared for him by D'Aubant, the husband of the 
fugitive princess, and the successor of Montberaut in command of the post, the 
young emperor — a youth of eighteen — was much graveled at the unaccustomed knife 
and fork ; but a wise old chief, who accompanied him as a kind of mentor, cut the 
knot by coolly dismembering a turkey with his fingers, gravely remarking that "the 
Master of Life made fingers before the makino: of forks." 



TWO EFFECTIVE ANTIDOTES. 283 

A savage who waited behind the emperor's chair, observing the Frenchmen sedu- 
lous in seasoning their boiled beef with mustard, asked Beaudin, an officer who had 
lived forty years among the Creeks, what it was that the}^ relished so much? Beaudin 
replied that the French were by no means covetous, even of the best of their pos- 
sessions, and to demonstrate the liberality he boasted, he handed the Indian hench- 
man a generous spoonful of the fiery condiment with ostentatious gravity. The sav- 
age unhesitatingly swallowed it ; but found himself quite unable, with all his Indian 
fortitude, to hide the tingling agony. He made divers fearful grimaces and extra- 
ordinary contortions of body, and uttered a number of whoops indicative of his feel- 
ings, all to the unbounded merriment of the company. But at last he imagined him- 
self poisoned, and the polite commandant was fain to appease his anger and his pain 
together, by the unfailing panacea of a good glass of brand}^ 

On another expedition through the woods, Bossu having gone quietly to sleep 
near the river's bank, rolled up in a corner of the tent-cloth in his bear-skin, and 
with a nice string of fish for breakfast stowed by his side, was startlingly awak- 
ened to find himself rapidl}^ propelled by some invisible power through the dark- 
ness towards the river. He roared lustily for help, but bestirring himself smartly, 
only managed, before help could come, to free himself and his bear skin, just in 
season to see his tent-cloth and his fish go under the water in the jaws of an immense 
alligator. The horrible monster, smelling the fish, and not very particular what else 
he took, had carelessly seized the tent-cloth, and was trundling off commander, tent, 
bed and all, along with his luncheon; quite unintentionally, but with reprehensible 
carelessness. 

A Choctaw whom Bossu met, having been baptized, and happening to have small 
success in his hunting just afterwards, conceived that his baptism had been a charm, 
and that he was bewitched. So going to Father Lefevre, who had "converted him," 
he indignantly told him that his "medicine" was good for nothing, for that since he 
had received it he could kill no deer, and told him to take off the enchantment. The 
compliant Jesuit, sure that the baptism had safely ticketed the red man's soul for 
heaven, readily pretended to go through a reversal of the forms of the sacrament; 
and the Indian, sure enough, shortly afterwards killed a deer, to his great relief and 
satisfaction, and was never a whit the worse Christian. 

The history of the French in the southAvest would be very incomplete without a 
sketch of the fortunes and influence of a family, who, for a quarter of a century, 
controlled the strong tribes of the Creeks, and their allies of the neighboring region, 
and by means of a mingled course of wr.r and diplomacy, contrived to maintain the 



284 THE CLAN M GILLIVRAY. 

territoiy and independence of the tribes by balancing against each other the power 
of the Spaniards and of the United States. This is the family of McGillivray, the 
celebrated half-breed Creek chief; including, besides himself, his father, Lachlan 
McGillivray, his sisters, Sophia and Jeannette, and his brother-in-law, the roving 
and adventurous Frenchman, Le Clerc Milfort, not to mention the celebrated chief 
Weatherford, of the next generation, the son of his half-sister Sehoy. 

Lachlan McGillivray, the son of respectable Scotch parents, a youth of shrewd, 
roving and adventurous character, strong constitution and unfailing good temper and 
spirits, running away from home, had come to Charleston about the year 1735. He 
engaged in the service of an Indian trader, and speedily began business on his own ac- 
count by exchanging a jack-knife which his employer gave him, with an Indian for some 
deer-skins. From this insignificant beginning he rapidly developed an extensive and 
profitable business, and by skill, courage, and good nature, and very probably also by 
means of some secret leanings towards the French, the ancient and faithful allies of 
the Scottish kingdom, his trading operations extended without interruption, even to 
the neio"hborhood of Fort Toulouse. Here he married a beautiful half-blood Indian 
girl, Sehoy Marchand, whose father. Captain Marchand, had been slain while com- 
manding the fort, by his mutinous soldiers, in the famine in 1722, and whose mother 
was a full-blooded Creek of the family of Wind, the aristocracy of the nation, and 
her Indian name, Sehoy, a hereditary one in the family from time immemorial. 
Her Lachlan McGillivray married ; settling himself in a trading post at Little Tal- 
lase, and there, about 1745, was born Alexander McGillivray, their eldest child; his 
character, as Indian legends say, having been prefigured by his mother's dreams of 
great piles of manuscripts, ink and paper, and great heaps of books. 

The trader, thus situated and connected, grew rich apace, and owned two valuable 
plantations and two stores. By the consent of his wife, to whom, according to 
Indian custom, the children belonged, he sent Alexander, now fourteen, to school at 
Charleston for some little time, and then perched him upon a counting-house stool 
at Savannah. But haggling and barter were disgusting to him; account books he 
did not like ; and neglecting his business, was ever pouring over histories and travels. 
By advice of friends, his father wisely accommodated this craving after knowledge, 
and placed him in charge of a clergyman of his own name — a Scotch Presbyterian 
it may be inferred. The youth fell with avidity to systematic study and in brief 
time his powerful and active intellect had mastered Latin and Greek, and his 
attainments were fair in general literature. Then, ripening into earl}^ and ardent 



ALEXANDER M'GILLIVRAY AND LE CLERC MILFORT. 285 

manhood, as if the Indian in him had awakened, and was calhng for wild woods and 
savage life, he left books and cities, mounted his horse and hied him back to the 
beautiful country of his people — the Creeks. 

He arrived in good time, for the Indians were vexed and perplexed by the lawless 
conduct of the Georgia frontiersmen — a race whose conduct towards the red men 
seems from the beginning to liave held a bad pre-eminence among the infinite 
wrongs inflicted on them by the whites. Already proud and confident of the pre- 
cocious and powerful talents of the youth, they were looking with impatience to the 
time when he should be of age to assume that control of the affairs of his race to 
which not only nature had ordained him, but his descent from the noble family of the 
Wind gave him a legitimate title, according to the rude Indian law of descents. With 
the easy confidence of inborn greatness, he took his place ; and so clear and strong was 
his immediate exhibition of administrative talent that the British authorities, then 
occupying Florida, and seeking to secure in their interests the influence of the young 
Creek chief, complimented him with the rank and pay of a colonel in his Britannic 
Majesty's service. Bound to them by this early recognition and testimony of his 
value, as well as through his father, a staunch royalist, and actuated, moreover, by 
the continual and gratuitous injuries and insults put upon his nation by the coarse 
and lawless American backwoodsmen, he remained all his life faithfully attached to 
the English interests as against the United States. 

McGillivray — this was about 1776 — was holding a grand council of the Creek na- 
tion at the great town of Coweta, on the Chattahoochie. While the business of the 
assembly was in progress, there was introduced to him a certain young Frenchman, 
handsome, vivacious, accomplished, keenly intelligent. Himself French by the quar- 
ter blood, and in these other points so like, it is not singular that McGillivray was 
pleased with his new acquaintance. Le Clerc Milfort — for this was he — on his 
part, with the singular bent toward savage life so marked in the French, enchanted with 
the beauty of the country, the plenteous hospitality and ease of the Indian life, the 
wide field for exciting adventure, the absolute freedom of the place and time, and 
fascinated, moreover, by the splendor of the chieftain's intellect, was not long in ac- 
cepting an invitation to become an inmate of McGillivray 's family; and during a pe- 
riod of twenty years these two remarkable men, in conjunction, managed in peace and 
war the government of the Creeks. McGillivray was no coward, and together with 
Col. Tait, a British agent, had in person headed more than one expedition against 
the Whigs of Georgia during the Eevolutionary War. But his slender frame and 



286 AN ALLIANCE WITH SPAIN. 

weak health, his diplomatic and intellectual turn of mind, fitted him rather for the 
council and the cabinet than for the field; while Milfort, daring and enthusiastic, of 
iron constitution and restless activity, a trained soldier and skillful partisan, was the 
very man to lead the Indians in their desultory warfare with the semi-civilized bor- 
derers. He married the beautiful sister of the chieftain, and was appointed Tuste- 
nus:o:ee, or orrand war chief of the nation. 

During the Revolutionary War the Creeks unceasingly harrassed the Georgian 
frontier, Milfort taking the field as their leader, while McGillivray, remaining at home, 
oversaw enlistments, and managed refractory chieftains; his enmity against the 
Georgians, yet further inflamed by the misfortunes of his father, who was forced at 
the evacuation of Savannah bv the British to flee with them, and who, although he 
secured a large property to carry with him, lost all his real estate ; which, to the value 
of more than a hundred thousand dollars, was summarily confiscated by the provin- 
cials ; an injury which the chief — who, amid all his patriotism and politics, had always 
a keen eye to his personal profit and aggrandizement — neither forgot nor forgave. 

But the Spaniards meanwhile had reconquered Florida from England. At Pen- 
sacola resided William Panton — like McGillivray's father, a Scotchman — a Avealthy 
and exclusive Indian trader, and no small politician. He had bartered the use of his 
powerful influence among the Indian tribes south of the Tennessee River with the 
Spanish government for certain special privileges; and was now, as chief partner of 
the great firm of Panton, Leslie & Co., conducting a business, whose out-stations 
were all over Florida, from the St. Mary's to the Chickasaw bluffs, whose central 
depot at Pensacola usually contained fifty thousand dollars' worth of goods, and em- 
ployed fifteen clerks, and for whose carrj'^ing trade fifteen schooners, all owned by the 
firm, were busy up and down the coast. 

McGillivray was dropped by the British, who, beaten out of the country, had no 
further use for him. Panton, well aware of his influence, and appreciating his tal- 
ents, sought to engage him in the interest of Spain, with the design of securing to 
his Spanish allies a valuable auxiliary, and to himself McGillivray's assistance in his 
trade ; which ends were to be accomplished by demonstrating the value of the Spanish 
alliance to his nation, and, moreover, by the direct personal advancement of the chief- 
tain himself. Panton brought him to Pensacola; and on behalf of the Creek and 
Seminole nations he engaged that the influence of Spain should be paramount in their 
territories, and that Spain should have all their trade ; and for himself he received 
the appointment of commissary in the Spanish service, with the rank and pay of a 
colonel. 



REFUSAL TO TREAT WITH THE GEORGIANS. 287 

For choosing the Spanish alliance, McGillivray's reasons, aside from his private 
aggrandizement, were amply sufficient. His primary pm-pose — the central purpose 
of his life — was the independence and prosperity of his own people. While the 
Americans had exiled his father, confiscated his estates, threatened death to himself 
and extermination to his tribe, and had already, under the transparent pretense of an 
illegal and unratified treaty, appropriated a large and valuable portion of the Creek 
territory known as the Oconee lands, the Spaniard wanted no land, but only trade, 
and they offered commercial advantages and personal honor. 

Henceforward McGillivray appeared almost solely as a diplomatist. The provincial 
Congress had appointed commissioners to treat with the southern Indians, who sent 
to summon the chief to meet them and enter into a treaty. He answered complai- 
santly and politely, with apparent acquiescence, but avoided meeting them. They de- 
parted in disappointment; and contrary to their wishes, the Georgian commissioners 
who had accompanied them, protesting against their intended plans, proceeded alone 
to conclude a treaty with the chiefs of only two towns, who, with sixty warriors, 
were the only Indians present ; and the State Legislature made a county out of some 
of the land thus pretended to be ceded, which lasted only two weeks, the settlers be- 
ing driven out by the Indian lords of the soil. 

Congress next appointed a superintendent for the Creeks, Dr. James White, who 
VvTote to McGillivray from Cusseta, announcing the fact. The chief replied in a long 
and involved epistle, complaining of the Georgian grievances, anticipating redress, 
and appointing time and place for an interview. They met in April, 1787, and 
White forthwith demanded the acknowledgment of the boundary claimed by the 
Georgians. McGillivray adroitly made a counter-proposition, that the United States 
ought first to establish a government under federal authority south of the Alabama; 
and promising that if they should, he would then ratify the line required, and giving 
the check-mated superintendent until the first of August to consider it, he departed. 

All this time the extensive trade of the Creeks was shut to the United States, and 
the Indians, incensed beyond measure at the greedy seizure at the Oconee lands, in- 
cessantly preyed upon the border, to the great wrath and injury of the Georgia 
squatters, who would fain have procured the invasion of the Creeks by a national 
army. 

But Congress was reluctant to enter into another war; and a third time sent com- 
missioners to negotiate with McGillivray. The powerful and fearless chieftain now 
absolutely refused to treat, unless the Georgians should first be removed from the 



288 THE "ALABAMA TALLEYRAND 

Oconee lands, which the commissioners could not do, and again they went bootless 
home; while McGillivray, personally interested in Panton's extensive trade, valued, 
flattered, and amply supplied by the Spanish government, implicitly obeyed by Creeks 
and bv many of the Choctaws, Cherokees and Seminoles, and even supplicated by 
the American Congress, was quite able to demand his own terms ; meanwhile the in- 
defatigable Tustenuggee and his warriors still mercilessly vexed and devastated the 
disputed border. 

The proud, bold and wary "Alabama Talleyrand," as Pickett, the historian, calls 
him, scornfully refused to trust the pledge of personal honor, upon which commis- 
sioners from Georgia next invited him to meet them ; evaded repeated like attempts 
by Governor Pinckney of South Carolina; and kept the commissioners of the federal 
government long waiting and urging him to a meeting on his frontier. 

McGillivray at length agreed to meet them ; and knowing well what use to make 
of the Spanish fears that he might come to an accommodation with them, and ever 
influenced primarily by the interests of his nation, he wrote to Panton an ambiguous 
letter containing the following triumphant and powerful passage: 

"In order to accommodate us, the commissioners are complaisant enough to post- 
pone it (the meeting) till the 15th of next month, and one of them, the late Chief 
Justice Osborne, remains all the time at Kock Landing. * * * j^ this do you 
not see my cause of triumph, in bringing these conquerors of the Old, and masters of 
the New World, as they call themselves, to bend and supplicate for peace, at the feet 
of the people whom, shortly before, they despised and marked out for destruction?" 

Leaving Panton and the Spanish authorities in considerable pain, lest he should in 
some way put himself in the hands of the Americans, McGillivray, with two thousand 
warriors, met the American authorities at Rock Landing on the Oconee ; and with 
his usual courtesy so encouraged the commissioners that they considered it safe to 
explain the treaty they desired, which stipulated that the boundary required by 
Georgia should be acknowledged; and for other concessions from the Indians. Mc- 
Gillivray, after the form of consulting with his chiefs, astounded the commissioners 
next morning by coolly refusing their terms as unjust ; and in spite of their eif orts 
he broke up his encampment and departed, writing them a curt letter of explana- 
tion, which ended as follows: 

"We sincerely desire a peace, but cannot sacrifice much to obtain it. As for a 
statement of our disputes, the honorable Congress had long since been in possession 
of it, and has declared that they will decide on them on the principles of justice and 
humanity. . 'Tis that we expect." 



BAMBOOZLES THE AMERICAN AUTHORITIES. 289 

The commissioners had to return dissatisfied. President Washington, unwilhng 
to undertake a war, whose expense he computed at fifteen milHons, resolved to at- 
tempt a personal interview with McGillivray ; and Col. Marinus Willet, dispatched 
on a secret agency to negotiate for his journey to New York, and succeeding, returned 
with him overland, the distinguished chief being everywhere received and treated 
with the utmost attention and honor. 

The Spanish governor, in great alarm, sent an agent to New York to embarrass 
their proceedings, who, however, was so closely watched as to be unable to do any 
harm. A treaty was at last concluded, August, 1790, by which McGillivray recog- 
nized the boundary line claimed by the Georgians, and stipulated to substitute for 
his existing relations with Spain similar ones with the United States, for which an 
annual payment of fifteen hundred dollars was to be made to the nation, and their 
territory guaranteed to them. There was, however, a secret treaty signed by Wash- 
ington, Knox, McGillivray and the chiefs with him, providing for salaries and medals 
to the chiefs of the negotiating tribes ; and for the half-breed ruler himself, the ap- 
pointments of United States agent and brigadier-general, with twelve hundred dollars 
a year. 

He returned with half a year's pay in advance. The terms of the treaty being 
published, for the first time McGillivray began to lose the confidence at once of his 
tribe, of the Spaniards, and of Panton. A freebooting adventurer, named Bowles, a 
man of many strange experiences, in the English interest, intrigued within the na- 
tion against the chief, who, however, journeying and negotiating awhile, first pro- 
cured the sending of Bowles to Madrid in irons, and then received from his Catholic 
Majesty the appointment of superintendent-general of the Creeks, with an annual 
salary of two thousand dollars, soon increased to thirty-five hundred. 

Thus supported by the two powerful nations, whom he played against each other, 
and even firmer than ever in his own hereditary authority, he spent a year or two in 
his natural atmosphere of diplomacy and intrigue, bamboozling the American authori- 
ties with multiplied excuses for delaying to execute the treaty of New York, and still 
privately maintaining his close relations with the Spaniards; seemingly with perfect 
ease, avoiding to commit himself into the hands of either, and skillfully and wisely 
supporting his home administration. He died in February, 1793, of a complication 
of disorders; chiefly of an inflammation of the lungs, and of gout in the stomach. 

"General McGillivray," says Pickett, "was six feet high, spare, and remarkably 
erect in person and carriage. His eyes were large and piercing. His forehead was 
19 



290 ArrEARANCE AND CHARACTERISTICS OF m'gILLIVRAY. 

SO peculiarly shaped that the old Indian countrymen often spoke of it; it commenced 
expanding at the eyes, and widened considerably at the top of his head ; it was a bold 
and lofty forehead. His fingers were long and tapering, and he wielded a pen with 
the o-reatest rapidity. His face was handsome, and indicative of quick thought and 
much sagacity. Unless interested in conversation, he was disposed to be taciturn; 
but even then was polite and respectful." 

For the control of men and the conduct of political intrigue, McGillivray had rare 
ability. He was, as seems to have been necessary to diplomatic success, thoroughly 
unscrupulous as to the means he used; and, indeed, was in his public character a 
false and crafty man ; but such characteristics are the less to be wondered at in one 
of Indian blood, whose life was spent in maintaining a small and feeble nation amid 
the encroachments, intrigues and attacks of others immeasurably stronger. As an 
individual, he was honorable, courteous, hospitable, and generous even to chivalry. 
At his residence at Little Tallase and the Hickory Ground, he was accustomed nobly 
to entertain all reputable strangers and visitors of public character. 

Three wretches, an Indian, a white renegade, and a negro, having waylaid and slain 
a party of his guests, he sent promptly in pursuit, and although two of them suc- 
ceeded in escaping, he caused the third to be carried to the place of his guilt, and 
there huno-. A poor Choctaw being sick, apprehended that the native doctors had 
o-iven him over. In this case the gentlemen of the savage faculty were accustomed 
to verify their diagnoses by recommending that the patient be forthwith put out of 
his pain, whereupon two of the nearest relatives, in full reliance upon their profes- 
sional skill, jumped upon him and strangled him out of hand. Crawling desperately 
off to escape this prescription, while the consultation was progressing before his 
door, the poor wretch managed to reach the Creek nation, was kindly received by 
McGillivray, and by him caused to be cured. He returned home, but arrived only in 
time for the final ceremonies of dancing around his empty death-scaffold, and burn- 
ing it, whereupon they all ran away; one man only, cornered in his house, insisting 
that he was a ghost, and exhorting him to hurry back to the land of spirits. Fear- 
ing that he should really be sent thither, he returned to the Creeks, and spent the 
rest of his life under their protection. 

Le Clerc Milfort, a year or two after McGillivray' s death, returned to France, 
where he published an account of his life among the Creeks. And it was not long be- 
fore the common ruin of the Indian tribes — these two able leaders being gone — began 
to come upon the Creeks, until they were utterly overcome, and scattered from their 
native seats. 



THE NAPOLEONIST REFUGEES. 201 

Long after the career of McGillivray and Milfort, when the Territory of Ahibaina 
had been organized, and when the Indian title to hirge portions of their hereditary lands 
had been extinguished, still another band of Frenchmen made a persevering, thou<»-h 
ill-conducted and abortive effort to establish themselves upon those fertile regions. 

Considerable numbers of Napolconist refugees, driven from France after the im- 
prisonment of the great emperor at St. Helena, had gathered in Philadelphia, among 
whom were men of ability and eminence, and many accomplished w^omen. Count Le- 
fevre Desnouettes had been a lieutenant-general of cavalry under Napoleon ; had been 
present at the terrific siege of Saragossa, and had accompanied his master in the fri<dit- 
ful retreat from Moscow. Handsome, graceful and active, he was the most splendid 
horseman of his time. Napoleon w^as much attached to him, gave him many gifts, 
and procured for him to wife the sister of the wealthy banker, Lafitte. At Fontaine- 
bleau, it was Desnouettes whom Napoleon embraced for all the officers in testimony 
of the affection and sorrow with which he parted from them on his way to his exile at 
Elba. 

Colonel Nicolas Raoul, another of Napoleon's veterans, had accompanied his mas- 
ter to Elba, and wdien he escaped thence, had commanded the little advance guard 
of the slender army with which the emperor set out upon the famous triumphant 
progress from Cannes to Paris. Raoul was a large and noble looking man, irascible 
and obstinate, and a fearless and impetuous soldier. His wife, a beautiful Neapoli- 
tan, Marchioness of Sinibaldi, had been a lady of honor at the court of Murat's wife. 
Queen Caroline of Naples. 

Marshal Grouchy, a middle-sized and unmilitary lookingman, although also in Phila- 
delphia, was unpopular with the refugees, who imputed to him the loss of the field of 
Waterloo, on which subject he waged a newspaper war with them ; and for which, 
or other reasons, he did not himself come to Alabama, although one of his sons, a cap- 
tain in the French army, afterwards did. 

General Count Bertrand Clausel, who had served with success throughout Bona- 
parte's campaigns; Henry L'Allemand, lieutenant-general of artillery of the imperial 
guard, who married a niece of Stephen Girard; his brother Charles; Col. J. J. Cluis, 
formerly aid to Lefevre; Marshal Duke of Rivigo, secretary to the same when after- 
wards chief of the police of Paris, and who at one time had had charge of Napoleon's 
royal prisoner, Ferdinand the Seventh of Spain, w^ere also among the refuo-ee 
French at Philadelphia. 



292 ''THE VINE AXD OLIVE COMPANY." 

Several men of civil or literary reputation were also there at the same time ; among 
whom were Peniers, who, as a member of the National Assembly, had voted for the 
death of Louis the Sixteenth ; Lackanal, who had done the like, and who had after- 
wards been at the head of the Department of Public Instruction under Napoleon ; 
Simon Chaudron, whose residence at Philadelphia was a well-known resort for the po- 
lite and witty, whose literary powers and attainments were great, and who had ac- 
quired no inconsiderable reputation as editor, poet, writer, and speaker; and others. 

These gentlemen deputed Nicolas S. Parmentier to obtain from Congress a grant 
of territory somewhere within the public domain, upon which they intended to estab- 
lish a colony, which was done March 4th, 1817, by the votes of that body, authoriz- 
ino- them to purchase four townships, at two dollars an acre, on a credit of fourteen 
years; the only other condition being that they should introduce and practice the 
cultivation of the vine and the olive — a stipulation from which their association was 
often named "The Vine and Olive Company." 

After some exploration and correspondence, it was determined to settle near the 
junction of the Black Warrior and the Tombigbee Rivers; and the company of 
three hundred and forty grantees, each entitled to a share of from eighty to four 
hundred acres of land, a country lot and a town lot, set sail for Mobile in the schooner 
McDonough. After a narrow escape from shipwreck upon Mobile Point, they reached 
the city ; and having been hospitably received and aided in many ways — both there 
and by the landed gentlemen in the vicinity — they at last established themselves upon 
the spot selected near the White Bluff on the Tombigbee. Erecting scattered cabins 
here and there among the thick forest trees and cane which covered the site of their 
estate, or in the prairie openings which dotted it, they cleared little patches of ground, 
and put in temporaiy crops for immediate provision, until some definite location and 
partition should be made. After a time the grant was surveyed and laid off into 
townships and sections ; and a town was laid out and named Demopolis — The City of 
the People. 

Complicated and grievous disasters, however, besieged them. High-bred and deli- 
cate, unused either to any forms of business or to the stern hand-to-hand struggle 
which alone wrests bread from savage nature, utterly ignorant of any manual art, and 
even of the most ordinary processes of agriculture, especially where so stubborn a 
forest was first to be conquered, and, moreover, unacquainted either with the language, 
the laws, or the customs of the people around them, it would have been difiicult to 
select from the nations of the earth a company less fit for the rugged task they had 
undertaken. 



THREE TIMES DEPRIVED OF ITS LANDS. 



293 



Three distinct and successive times, by the incredible errors or folly of their 
agents, they were forced to give up the tracts which they had begun to improve, 
and to select others. They were thus driven back from their first eligible loca- 
tion on the river front into waterless and inaccessible lots within the forest. Their 
city of Demopolis was found to be without the limits of their claim, and was 
bought from the United States over their heads by a crew of speculators, at 
fifty-two dollars an acre. The sharking land-thieves of the border coolly "squatted" 
within their grants, and insultingly informed them that they should maintain 




IN THE CANEBRAKE. 



themselves there at all risks. Although some suits were decided against these 
swindlers, yet the French, vexed and wearied with legal expenses and delays, 
often allowed the interlopers to remain for some small consideration. Without 
vehicles, cattle, slaves or servants, the German redemptioners whom Desnouettes 
imported proving idle, faithless and useless, they wasted enormous amounts of 
labor and money to raise inadequate crops. Desnouettes, himself a rich man — 
the wealthiest of them all — expended twenty-five thousand dollars in opening and 
cultivatiuff his own farm. Their ignorance of apiculture, and still more the unfit- 
ness of the land and of the climate, caused the total failure of their persevering 



294 DISAPPOINTMENT DISASTER — FAILURE EXTINCTION. 

attempts to cultivate the vine and the olive, according to the terms of their grant. The 
frrapes, which after many unsuccessful attempts they succeeded in ripening, ma- 
tured under the vivid heat of the Alabama sun, in the midst of summer, and the 
must soured into vinegar before it had time to ferment into wine. The frosts of the 
winter, on the other hand, yearly cut down the olive shoots to the ground, and 
though they sprouted again in the spring, it was to meet the same fate. 

Althouo-h all their schemes for establishing a settled communitv were abortive 
from the first, and in spite of multiplied mortifications and griefs, of solitude, savages, 
land-thieves, vain labor, imminent poverty, venomous insects, sickly atmosphere, and 
exhausting fevers, the indomitable French gaiety and determined lightness of heart 
procured for them many happy hours. They met at each other's houses, to talk of 
the past, to enjoy literary conversation and female society,' music and dancing, and 
the occasional festive gifts of friends; and in whatever distress, seem never once to 
have abated any "jot of heart or hope." At one of these evening re-unions, General 
Desnouettes, who had commanded the cavalry before Saragossa, unexpectedly met 
one who had been a leader within the desperately defended town. This was General 
Eico, a Spaniard; a man of noble presence, of great energy and decision, an opponent 
to the last of Napoleon's invasion of Spain, now exiled from his country as a Consti- 
tutionalist b}^ Ferdinand the Seventh. Settling in the colony, he became almost the 
only successful farmer within its limits. 

At last the prospects of the little community grew hopeless; and its extinction 
was unavoidable. Many of the settlers had sold out to American proprietors, who 
speedily brought the rich soil into high condition, and made valuable crops ; while 
the foreign proprietors, thus rooted out, were scattered in many directions. Madame 
Desnouettes, after an unsuccessful attempt to join her husband in Alabama, at last 
succeeded in obtaining for him permission from the French government to return to 
France; and the veteran, embarking on the ill-fated packet Albion, was lost M'ith 
many more in that vessel, on Kinsale Head, upon the Irish coast, before the ej^es of 
a great crowd of people unable to afford any assistance. Raoul established himself 
as ferryman at French Creek, three miles from Dcmopolis, where his striking fig- 
ure, foreign features and soldier-like air, excited the wonder of many travelers. He 
afterwards went to Mexico, his faithful wife accompanying him ; where he fought 
bravely in the revolution of that year; and at last returning to France, he was before 
long again an ofiicer in the French army. Count Clauscl did not settle at Demopolis, 
but remaining near Mobile, raised vegetables and sold them himself in the market. 



THE ONLY REMAINING TRACE. 295 

He returned to France in 1825, and became, under Louis Pliilippe, a marshal of 
France. The Spanish General Rico, returning to Spain, was for a time a member of 
the Cortes under the Constitution, was again exiled, fled to England, and was once 
more called to assist in governing his country. 

Some few of the settlers passed the remainder of their lives in Alabama, where 
their descendants yet live in good repute ; but the colony, with these scattering ex- 
ceptions, has left no trace except the name Demopolis; Areola, the name of another 
town and Marengo, the name given in compliment to a county in which part of their 
grant was situated. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



THROUGH THE GATES OF THE EOCKIES. 




AN UNLAURELED HERO. A STATESMAN'S PROJECT. THE MEN WHO CARRIED IT OUT. 

SKETCHES OF CAPTAINS LEWIS AND CLARKE. ASCENT OF THE MISSOURI. THE WINTER 

CAMP. PATH-FINDING. GREAT FALLS OF THE MISSOURI. SOURCE OF THE MISSOURI. 

A HUNTING ADVENTURE. THE MOUNTAIN PASS FOUNTAINS OF THE COLUMBIA. DESCENT 

OF THE RIVER. HARDSHIPS BY THE WAY. THE SECOND WINTER. THE RETURN. WELL 

EARNED PLAUDITS. 

^HILE the eastern side of the great valley was rapidly filling with hardy and 
enterprising settlers, the western half remained a terra incognita, unex- 
plored, undescribed, penetrated only by the voyageurs and coureurs des bois of the Hud- 
son Bay and Northwest Fur Companies. The dense ignorance concerning this magnifi- 
cent domain that obtained on the Atlantic slope as late as 1803, seems almost incredible. 
The whole vast territory west of the Mississippi was comprised in the French province 
of Louisiana, its northern border line, adjoining the British possessions, being indefi- 
nite and unsettled. The employes of the fur companies had trapped and hunted on the 
waters of the Upper Missouri, but no white man had traced them to their sources be- 
neath the snowy peaks of the Rocky Mountains. In the year 1791, Captain Gray, of 
the ship Columbia, of Boston, had discovered and entered the great river of Oregon, 
which, in honor of his vessel, he named the Columbia ; but no one had ever followed 
its tortuous, foaming currents to their fountain head in these same Rocky Mountains 
within a few miles of the Missouri. The wonderful and varied scenery, the moun- 
tains rising range beyond range, the wide plains, arcadian valleys, rushing streams, 
fauna and flora, wealth of mines, were a sealed book to the American of 1800. There 
were three Americans, however, who had looked with a statesman's eye on this seat 
of future empire — Thomas Jefferson of Virginia, Jonathan Carver, and John Led- 
yard of Connecticut. Carver would seem to have been first in the field. He was 
the son of an English ofiicer, born in Connecticut in 1732, and as early as 1766 left 
Boston, by way of Albany and Michiliniackinac, to explore the wilderness beyond the 

296 



CARVER S TIIKORY AS TO THE SOURCES OF THE GREAT RIVERS. 



297 



Mississippi, his object being, he tells us, to induce the government to establish a 
port near the Straits of Aniian (Behring's) after he should have reached the Pacific„ 
He was about two years and seven months penetrating as far as the River St. Francis. 
"From the intelligence I gained from the Naudowessie Indians," he says, "whose 
language I perfectly obtained during a residence of five months, and also from the 
accounts I afterward obtained from the Assinipoils, who speak the Chippewa lan- 
guage, and inhabit the heads of the River Bourbon (Missouri), I say, from these na- 
tions, together with my own observations. I have learned that the four most capital 




vip:w in grand canon. 



rivers on the continent of North America, viz: the St. Lawrence, the Mississippi, thw 
River Bourbon, and the Oregon or River of the West, have their sources in the same 
neighborhood. The waters of the three former are within thirty miles of each other; 
the latter, however is rather farther west." Want of means prevented Carver from 
further immediate prosecution of his design, and theWar of the Revolution put a stop to 
it altogether. Whether Jefferson ever heard of Carver's theory and explorations, is not 
known. He makes no mention of him in the introduction and memoir which he later 
wi'ote for the edition of Lewis and Clarke's Journal. It is worthy of remark, however, 
that on this theory of Carver's, that the fountains of the ]\Iissouri and the Columbia 



298 joiix ledvard's unsuccessful scheme. 

were opposite and near together, depended the success of the Lewis and Charke expedi- 
tion of 1804, In 1787 Mr. Jefferson was residing in Paris as American minister, and 
there met the celebrated traveler, John Ledyard, who had come to France for the pm-- 
pose of forming a company to prosecute the fur trade on the Pacific coast. He failed 
in this, and Jefferson then proposed to him to go by land to Kamschatka, then cross 
Nootka Sound by Eussian vessels trading there, and, getting into the latitude of the 
Missouri, descend that river to the United States. Ledj'ard undertook the mission 
with alacrity, and securing, through Jefferson's aid, a safe conduct from the Czarina 
Catherine, he passed through the Eussian Empire via St. Petersburg, and when the 
winter fell, in 1787, was within two hundred miles of Kamschatka. At this point he 
passed the winter; but as he was about setting out in the spring of 1788, he was 
seized by the Eussian authorities, and hurried back over the route he had taken to the 
frontier. The czarina had changed her mind as to the desirability of the proposed 
exploration. Jefferson, not discouraged, and even then intent on acquiring Louisi- 
ana, still clung to his project of solving the mystery of the unknown land, and in 
1792, having returned to this country, proposed to the American Philosophical Soci- 
ety to provide by subscription for the sending out of a party to explore that region 
by ascending the Missouri, crossing the Eocky Mountains, and descending the Colum- 
bia to its mouth. A sufficient sum was easily secured, and command of the pro- 
posed expedition was given to Captain Meriwether Lewis, a young Virginian, highly 
recommended for the post by Mr. Jefferson. He was limited to one companion, and 
selected Mr. Andre Michauz, a botanist in the employ of the French government, 
Taking with them only such implements and goods as were absolutely necessary, 
the two set out; but on reaching Kentucky were overtaken by orders from the 
French minister for M. Michauz to pursue his botanical researches elsewhere. The 
enterprise, therefore, was abandoned; but only for a brief period. Li 1801, Jef- 
ferson became President. As in 1803 the act establishing trading-houses among the 
western Indians was about to expire, he sent a confidential message to Congress, 
proposing that a government exploring party be sent up the Missouri, and thence 
across the mountains to the Pacific, with a view to informing the nation thoroughly 
as to the French possessions in that quarter, the purchase of which was now being 
negotiated. Congress approved, and preparations were at once made for fitting out 
the expedition. Command of it was given without hesitation to Captain Lewis. He 
had now been for two years Jefferson's private secretary, and the sage's good opinion 
of him had been confirmed by more intimate acquaintance. In the memoir before 



SKETCH OF CAPTAIN LEWIS. 



299 



referred to, the president speaks of him in the hio;hest terms, as of courage un- 
daunted, firm, honest, Hberal, of sound understanding, and a fidelity to trutli so 
scrupulous that whatever 
"he should report would 
be as certain as though 
seen by ourselves;" fa- 
miliar too with the In- 
dian character, customs 
and principles, habitu- 
ated to the hunting life, 
guarded by exact ob- 
servation of the vege- 
table and animal life of 
this region, against los- 
ing time in the discovery 
of objects already pos- 
sessed — "I would have 
no hesitation," he says, 
"in confiding the entire 
enterprise to him." Cap- 
tain Lewis was now thirty 
years of age, having been 
born near Charlottesville, 
Virginia, on August 18th, 
1774 — a young man for 
so responsible a position, 
but, as events showed, 
the best that could have 
been selected. Captain 
Lewis was allowed to 
choose his lieutenant, 
and at once took Cap- captain mekiwethku lkwis. 

tain William Clarke, brother of George Kogers Clarke, another eminently wise selec- 
tion. To gain greater familiarity with the technical terms of science, and greater 
readiness in taking observations, Lewis repaired to Philadelphia, and was grounded 




300 THE ASCENT OF THE MISSOURI BEGUN. 

by the men of science there. At Lancaster, too, where his arms were manufac- 
tured, he met Andrew Ellicott, the veteran Geographer General, who gave him 
valuable information as to the demands and difficulties of the wilderness. On 
June 20th, he received his instructions. They were, in brief, to explore the Mis- 
souri and such streams as offered the most feasible water-way to the Pacific, 
whether the Columbia, Oregon, or Colorado. Beginning at the mouth of the 
Missouri, he was to take observations of latitude and longitude at all important 
points, including the portages between points on the Missouri and Columbia, and 
the course of the latter river to the sea. The names and numbers of the Indian 
tribes, their relations with other tribes, the languages, traditions, monuments, 
ordinary occupations, war, arts, implements, diseases and remedies, moral and 
physical circumstances, articles of commerce, and peculiarities in laws, customs 
and manners were also to be fully noted. They were instructed to study the 
fauna and flora of the country, its mineral productions of every kind, the ports 
of the Pacific Ocean, and the openings there for commerce. Passports from the 
English and French governments Avere given them ; in the event of his death, 
Lewis was also empowered to appoint a successor. If practicable, the}^ were to 
return by the way they Avent; if not, they could return by sea, provided a ves- 
sel offered. Even while these preparations were being made, Louisiana was ceded 
to us by France through the masterly policy of Jefferson. 

Captain Lewis left Washington, July 5th, 1803, proceeding to Pittsburg, where his 
supplies had been collected. He was to select his men from the military posts along 
the Ohio, and all Avere to be volunteers. It was December AAdien the party reached 
St. Louis, and Avent into Avinter quarters at the mouth of Wood Eiver on the east 
side of the Mississippi, a little below the present city of Alton. Captain LcAvis had 
designed to Avinter at La Charette, the highest settlement on the Missouri; but 
the French governor of Louisiana had not received formal notice of its transfer, and 
Lewis, therefore, encamped on his own territory. 

On Monday, the 14th of May, 1804, the little flotilla left the winter encampment, 
and proceeded up the swollen and turbid Missouri. They had with them three 
boats— the largest a keel-boat, fifty-five feet long, draAving three feet of Avater, pro- 
pelled by one large scjuare sail and tAA^enty-two oars. She had a deck of ten feet in 
both bow and stern, forming forecastle and cabin, and Avas also fitted Avith lockers 
amidships, Avhich could be lifted so as to form a breastwork in case of Indian attack. 
Her consorts were two pirogues, or open boats, one of six, the other of seven oars. 



WINTER-QUARTERS AT FORT MANDAN. 301 

Two horses were also led along the bank, for towing the boats when feasible, and also 
for bringing home game when killed. The force comprised, besides the two captains, 
nine young men from Kentucky, fourteen soldiers from the army — all volunteers — 
two French voyaguers (an interpreter and a hunter) , and a black servant, York, belong- 
ing to Captain Clarke. There were also a corporal, six soldiers, and nine watermen, 
who had been engaged to go as far as the Mandan towns for repelling attack, and to 
aid in carrying the stores. The latter consisted of clothing, working and scientific 
instruments, locks, flint, powder, ball and other necessaries, together with fourteen 
bales and one box for the Indians ; the latter composed of richly laced coats and 
other articles of dress, medals, flags, tomahawks, trinkets of different kinds, espec- 
ially beads and looking glasses, handkerchiefs, paints, and other ornaments calculated 
to please the savage fancy. 

It is not necessary to give in detail incidents of the journey up the Missouri. The 
reader may fancy the little band slowly ascending the mighty current by means of 
sails, oars, and tow-rope; advancing farther and farther into the unknown land, 
passing the mouths of numerous rivers — large and small — gliding through wide, 
smiling prairies, again under towering, gloomy escarpments of rock fantastically 
carved and painted by the elements, and again by some ancient, ruined village of the 
Missouris, and meeting at intervals fleets of canoes and rafts loaded with furs and 
buffalo tallow from the Upper Missouri, Kansas, and Platte, steered by bronzed, 
frocked and moccasined white hunters; noting, too, more and more as they ad- 
vanced, great herds of buffalo, deer, and antelope, attended by their solicitous en- 
emies, the wolves. 

Thus they passed through the territories of the Osages, Kansas, Pawnees, Mahas, 
Sioux, and Ricaras, and came, on October 27th, to the country of the Mandans, where — 
the weather being exceedingly cold — they decided to pass the winter. This was in 
latitude 47°, 21', N., and distant from the mouth of the Missouri sixteen hundred 
miles. As the}^ were to spend nearly six months here, we may be pardoned a brief 
description of their winter quarters and surroundings. The former they called Fort 
Mandan. It stood on a point of low land, covered with a heavy growth of cotton- 
wood, on the north bank of the Missouri. The fort consisted of two rows of huts 
or sheds, forming an angle where they joined each other; each row containing four 
rooms, each room fourteen feet square and seven feet high, with plank ceiling, and 
lofts above. The backs of the huts formed a wall eighteen feet high ; and opposite 
the angle, the place of the wall was supplied by palisades. There were also two 
rooms for the stores and provisions. 




WILD ANIMALS OF THE WEST. 



TO THE EASTWARD, HOME — TO THE WESTWARD, WHAT? 303 

In this rude citadel we may imagine them passing the long, dreary winter, utterly 
remote and cut off from civilization. Winter soon set in with severity, and drew a cor- 
don of ice and snow about them. Hunting the buffalo, studying the history and pe- 
culiarities of their neighbors, the Mandans, the Ahnahaways, and the Minnetarees, 
were their only employments. Without doubt these were months of dull routine and 
wearying anxiety, although their journal nowhere words it. Day after day dragged by, 
all so much alike that the history of one was the history of all. On every side 
stretched the interminable snow-clad plains and forests, both equally desert and sav- 
age. To the eastward lay their homes, families and kindred; years must elapse be- 
fore they could hear the slightest tidings of them, even though they succeeded in 
their quest. AYestward lay the unknown land where foot of white man had never 
trod. Thither honor and ambition pointed. Dangers and obstacles — greater, per- 
haps, than explorer has ever encountered — were in the way. Savage and ferocious 
beasts crouched there. It was the haunt of the dreaded Sioux, the scourge of the plains. 
Fevers and agues lurked in its fens and marshes. They could almost see, on clear 
days, the snow-clad peaks of the mountain ranges that rose like giant barriers across 
their path. And this path-finding — how was it to be accomplished? Hitherto, the 
river had been their highway. But very soon it would fork and separate into branches 
of equal volume rushing down from the mountains, one of which must be their path- 
way — but which ? And the mountains ? That there was a pass through them Avas prob- 
lematical. That the head waters of the Columbia ran on the other side of the di- 
vide was mere matter of conjecture. Entangled in those awful mountain solitudes, 
where man is made to feel his absolute littleness, they might wander, dragging 
weary limbs more and more feebly, until at the base of some snowy peak they 
would sink into the sleep of eternity, and the avalanche would be at once their wind- 
ing sheet and sepulchre. These thoughts and forebodings, we repeat, must have 
been present with them, but there is no record that a man proposed going back, or 
even grew faint-hearted. The story of these heroes has never been fairly told. 
Their just fame has been eclipsed by modern explorers. Nevertheless, a more cour- 
ageous, self-sacrificing, indomitable band of explorers never set foot on the un- 
known trail. 

Spring opened comparatively early for that latitude. Through the month of March, 
they were busy building smaller boats in which to continue their voyage, and in lay- 
ing in a supply of dried meat and provisions. On April 1st there came a thunder 
storm — the first rainfall since the 15th of October, indicating the breaking up of 
winter. On April 7th they renewed their journey, first dispatching their barge 



AT THE MOUTH OF THE YELLOWSTONE. 305 

manned with seven soldiers, two vo7/ageurs,w\ih. the trader, M. Gravihnes, as pilot, 
for the United States. The barge carried a unique cargo — a skeleton of a prairie 
wolf, stuffed male and female antelope, weasel, three Rocky Mountain squirrels, 
white and gray hare, male and female burrowing dog, two burrowing squirrels, a white 
weasel, skin of the houseria, horns of a mountain ram, a pair of large elk horns, 
horns and tail of a black-tailed deer, and a variety of skins, such as those of the red 
fox, white marten, yellow bear, etc. ; with articles of Indian dress (among them a 
buffalo robe upon which was depicted a battle between the Sioux and Ricaras against 
the Mandans and Minnetarees, the combatants being on horseback), a Mandan bow 
and quiver of arrows, some Ricara tobacco seed and an ear of Mandan corn, a box of 
plants, insects, etc. — the whole designed as a present for the President of the United 
States. 

The exploring party now numbered thirty-two persons. Besides the commanders, 
there were three sergeants, twenty privates. Captain Clarke's black servant, York, 
two interpreters (George Drewer and Touissaint Chaboneau), and a Minnetaree 
named Chaboneau, whom Captain Lewis engaged chiefly on account of his wife, who 
was born a member of the Snake tribe, and knew their language. The Snakes in- 
habited the divide between the Columbia and Missouri, and Captain Lewis designed 
making use of her in his negotiations with that tribe. The party sailed in six small 
canoes and two large pirogues. On the night of April 26th they encamped at the 
junction of the Yellowstone — a tributary almost as large as the parent stream — 
and recorded what the Indians told them about it ; that its sources were near those 
of the Missouri and Platte, and that it was navigable for canoes nearly to its head; 
that it ran first through a mountainous country, and then watered a delightful land 
rich in meadows, timber, and game of all sorts. Beyond the Yellowstone they en- 
tered the region of the "white bear" (grizzly), "of whose strength and ferocity," 
says Captain Lewis, "the Indians had given us dreadful accounts." The party had 
several sanguinary encounters with him, which we may describe later. Soon they 
came into the region of the hill and river cliffs, which exhibited a most romantic and 
extraordinary appearance. "They rise nearly perpendicular from the river to the 
height of between two and three hundred feet, and are formed of very white sand- 
stone, so soft as to yield readily to the action of water, but in the upper part of 
which lie imbedded two or three horizontal strata of white freestone, unaffected by the 
rain; and on the top is a dark rich loam." * * "In trickling down the cliffs, the 
water has worn the soft sand-stone into a thousand grotesque figures, among which, 
20 



306 < 'VISIONARY ENCHANTMENT.*' 

with a little fancy, may be discerned elegant ranges of freestone buildings, with col- 
umns variously sculptured, and supporting long and elegant galleries, wliile the para- 
pets are adorned with statuary. On a nearer approach, they represent every form of 
eleo-ant ruins; columns, some with pedestals and capitals entire, others mutilated and 
prostrate, and some rising pyramidically over each other till they terminate in a sharp 
point. These are varied by niches, alcoves, and the customary appearances of des- 
olated magnificence." This appearance of ruins was increased by the number of 
martins which had built their globular nests in the niches and over the columns, like 
the rooks and daws around English ruins. 

"As we advance," proceeds the Journal, "there seems no end to the visionary en- 
chantment which surrounds us. In the midst of this fantastic scenery are vast ranges 
of walls, which seem the production of art, so regular is the workmanship. They 
rise perpendicularly from the river, sometimes to the height of one hundred feet, 
varying in thickness from one to twelve feet, being equally broad at the top as below. 
The stones which form them are black, thick and durable, and composed of a large 
portion of earth intermixed and cemented with a small quantity of sand, and a con- 
siderable proportion of talc or quartz. These stones are almost invariably regular 
parallelopiped — of unequal sizes in the wall, but equally deep, and laid regularly in 
ranges over each other like bricks, each breaking and covering the interstices of the 
two on which it rests. But though the perpendicular interstice be destroyed, the 
horizontal one extends entirely through the whole work. The stones, too, are pro- 
portioned to the thickness of the wall. * * These walls pass the river at several 
places, rising from the water's edge much above the sand-stone bluffs which they 
seem to penetrate. Then they cross in a straight line on either side the river, the 
plains over which they tower to the height of from ten to seventy feet, until they 
lose themselves in the second range of hills. Sometimes they run parallel in several 
ranges near each other, sometimes intersect each other at right angles, and have the 
appearance of walls of ancient houses or gardens," 

On June 2d they encamped in a handsome, low cottonwood plain, on the south bank, 
opposite the mouth of a large river which came in from the north. Here the first 
real difficulty of the journey presented itself; which of the two rivers was what 
the Minnetarees called the Amateahya or Missouri, and which they said approached 
very near the Columbia? On the right answer to this question much of the fate of the 
expedition depended, for if, after ascending the river to the Rocky Mountains, they 
found it did not come near the Columbia, they would be obliged to retrace their 
steps, would lose the season and probably dishearten the men so as to induce them 



DECISION IN FAVOR OF THE SOUTH FORK. 



307 



either to abandon the enterprise or to give but cold and lukewarm obedience. It was 
decided to explore both rivers. Three men in canoes were first sent up each stream 
to get the width, depth and rapidity of the current, while the two chiefs ascended 
the high ground in the fork of the two rivers for a view of the back country. On 
every side they saw a vast plain covered with verdure in which innumerable buf- 
falo were feeding. South was a range of lofty mountains, and behind this in the 
dim distance, a loftier range covered with snow, stretching from west to north of 
west, where their snowy tops were blended with the horizon. This fact predisposed 
the chiefs to the south fork. They made a thorough exploration, however, and 
Captain Lewis, after as- 
cending the north fork 
for three days, returned 
fully convinced that 
the south branch was 
the true Missouri; they, 
therefore, ascended that 
stream. On the 13th, 
Lewis, who, with four 
men had gone on in ad- 
vance of the main body, 
heard a gi'eat roarini> 
before him, and, as 
he advanced, "a spra> 
which seemed driven 
by the high southwest 
wind arose above the 
plain like a column of 
smoke, and vanished in an instant." Directing his steps toward this point, the noise 
momentarily increased, and soon became too tremendous to be mistaken for anything 
else than the great falls of the Missouri. Traveling some miles after first hearing 
them, he at length reached the falls, and enjoyed one of the most sublime specta- 
cles of nature — his being probably the first civilizeTi eyes that had gazed upon it. 
"The river at its cascade," he says, "is three hundred yards wide, and is pressed in 
by a perpendicular cliff on the left, which rises to about one hundred feet, and ex- 
tends up the stream for a mile. On the right the bluff is also perpendicular for three 




THE CROW VILLAGE. 



308 THE GREAT FALLS OF THE MISSOURI. 

hundred yards above the falls. For ninety or a hundred feet from the left cliif the 
water falls in one smooth even sheet, over a precipice of at least eighty feet. The 
remaining part of the river precipitates itself with a more rapid current, and being 
received as it falls, by the irregular and somewhat projecting rocks below, forms a 
splendid spectacle two hundred yards in length and eighty in perpendicular elevation. 
The spray is dissipated into a thousand shapes, sometimes flying up in columns of 
fifteen or twenty feet, which are then oppressed by larger masses of white foam, on 
all of which the sun impresses the brightest colors of the rainbow. Below the fall the 
water beats with fury against the ledge of rocks which extends across the river at 
one hundred and fifty yards from the precipice. For three miles below, the river 
was one continued succession of rapids and cascades overhung with perpendicular 
bluffs from one to two hundred feet high. Ascending next day, he came to a sec- 
ond fall of about nineteen feet, five miles above, with one continued rapid, and 
three small cascades in the interval. This second fall he named Crooked Falls. 
Above it the river turned suddenly northward. At this point the explorer heard 
another loud roar above, and crossing the point of a hill a few hundred yards in ad- 
vance, another striking and sublime scene burst upon him. The whole mighty 
volume of the Missouri was here suddenly stopped by one shelving rock, which with- 
out a single niche, stretched from one side of the river to the other for at least a 
quarter of a mile. Over this barrier the river furiously precipitated itself in an even, 
uninterrupted sheet to the perpendicular depth of fifty feet, when dashing against the 
rocky bottom it rushed rapidly down, leaving behind it a sheet of purest foam across 
the river. The travelers had scarcely mastered the beauties of this cataract, when, 
casting their eyes up the valley, they discovered one of similar appearance. This 
they found to be another dyke of rock stretching across the river's bed, over which 
the water poured with a fall of fourteen feet. Pushing eagerly on up the bed of the 
stream, and passing a succession of rapids and small cascades, they came, at the dis- 
tance of two and one-half miles, to another cataract of twenty-six feet. This was the 
commencement of the falls. Just above, they came out on a wide and beautiful plain, 
through which the Missouri was peacefully winding, bearing on its wide bosom vast 
flocks of wild geese, while unnumbered buffalo fed on the plains around. This great 
plain, Lewis saw, extended quite to the bases of the snow-covered mountains to the 
south and southwest. About four miles above him, the Missouri was joined by a large 
river flowing from the northwest, and making his way thither. Captain Lewis met 
with an adventure by no means uncommon, and which we will detail as an example 



CAPTAIN LEWIS TAKES TO THE WATEU. 



309 



of the perils encountered by these men in the wilderness. He came suddenl}^ upon 

a herd of at least a thousand buffalo, and, being in need of food, shot one of them. 

The animal was badly ^(^' 

wounded, and Captain 

Lewis, in watching for 

the death struggle, had 

forg-otten to reload his 

rifle, when suddenly he 

became aware that a large ^p 

brown bear (cinnamon) ^ 

was stealing upon him, 

and not more than twenty 



paces distant. In the 
first moment of surprise 
he lifted his rifle, but re- 
membering it was not 
charged, and that there 
was no time to reload, 
he turned to flee. The # 
plain was open and level, ^^ 
not a bush even within 
three hundred yards, 
while the river banks, 
not above three feet 
high, afforded but little 
chance of concealment. 
Captain Lewis began 
retreating towards the 
nearest tree, but as he 
turned, the bear rushed 
open-mouthed and at full 
speed upon him. In this 
way man and bear ran 
for eighty yards. Then, 
finding the beast gaining 
upon him, and indeed at ^ 
his heels, the hunter re- 
sorted to a desperate expedient — he turned short, plunged into the river about waist 
deep, and turning about, presented the point of his spontoon to the bear. The latter 




INDIAN l)0(i DANCE. 



310 PORTAGE AROUND THE FALLS. 

drew up at the Avater's edge, not twenty feet away, and alarmed at this change of 
front, or at something else, turned and made for the woods at his greatest speed. 
The gallant captain records that he learned from this adventure always to keep his 
rifle loaded. 

He now went on to the river, which he judged to be the Medicine Eiver mentioned 
by the Indians as flowing into the Missouri just above the falls. In its low grounds 
he came upon a brownish-yellow animal standing by its lair, which crouched as he 
came near, as though about to spring. Lewis fired, and the beast disappeared in its 
burrow. From its tracks he thought it to be of the tiger kind; it was, probably, 
the Kocky Mountain lion. The solitary hunter again moved forward; but as if the 
beasts of the forest were in conspiracy against him, three buffalo bulls, feeding 
with a large herd about half a mile distant, left their fellows and charged upon him. 
He turned, and advanced to meet them; approaching to within one hundred yards, 
they stopped, looked at him for some time, and then retreated as they came. Night 
had now fallen, and the captain was at least eleven miles from camp. Thither he 
bent his steps in the darkness, and, unmolested, reached it safely toward midnight, to 
the great joy of his comrades, who feared some evil had befallen him. "Being 
much fatigued," he naively records, "I supped, and slept well through the night." 

The discovery of the falls proved them to be on the right fork. The problem 
now was how to get the canoes and stores around the cataract. Sending a messen- 
ger to apprise Captain Clarke — who with the main body was advancing from be- 
low — of his discovery. Captain Lewis set himself to solving the problem. On June 
16th he was joined by Captain Clarke, and the two made a minute survey of the 
surrounding country, their determination being to haul the canoes on carriages 
around the falls. Their survey of the great cataract showed a descent of three hun- 
dred and fifty-two feet in a distance of two and three-quarter miles, with precipitous 
walls for banks ; but by ascending a small creek which entered below the falls a 
short distance, they could get a gradual ascent to the upper plateau, and on this 
route the boats were dragged on improvised carriages, and again launched on the 
river. The entire length of the portage they found to be seventeen and three-quarter 
miles, and the reader can imagine the labor, the difliculties and the manifold advent- 
ures encountered in performing it. 

June 29th, Captain Clarke, his servant York, Chaboneau, and his wife with her 
young child, met with an adventure. They had taken refuge in a deep ravine open- 
ing up from the chasm, to avoid being blown into the river by one of those sudden 



A CLOUD-BURST. 



311 



and violent storms peculiar to the region. The cloud burst at the head of the ra- 
vine, and sent a column of water, fifteen feet high, rushing down its funnel. The 
party saw it in time to reach with incredible effort the bank above, but Clarke lost 
his compass and umbrella, the Indian his gun, shot-pouch and tomahawk, and the 
squaw had barely time to grasp her child from the net in which it was lying, ere the 
torrent swept the latter into the river. They had several conflicts with the white 




BUFFALO HUNTING 



bears which harbored in the islands of the river above the falls, and were startled at 
intervals by hearing an explosion in the mountains. "It is heard at different periods 
of the day and night," says the Journal, "(sometimes when the air is perfectly still 
and without a cloud), and consists of one stroke only, or of five or six discharges in 
succession. It is loud, and resembles precisely the sound of a six-pounder at the dis- 
tance of three miles." The Minnetarees had frequently mentioned this noise in their 



312 EXPLOSIONS IN THE MOUNTAINS. 

account of the falls, and the voyageurs of the party affirmed that the Pawnees and 
the Eicaras had told them of a similar sound heard in the Black Mountains, to the 
westward of their country. The watermen attributed it to the bursting of the rich 
mines of silver hidden in the bowels of the mountain.* 

The heavy pirogue was left below the falls, and new canoes had to be built to replace 
her, so that it was July 15th before the party fairly got clear of the great cataract, 
and paddled briskly along the brimming river, through the beautiful plain. The 
Eocky Mountains, their primary goal, were in full view, rising solemn and stupendous 
in the western horizon. On the 16th, Captain Lewis, with three men, hurried on to 
the point where the river issued from the mountains, and was joined next day by the 
rest of the party. Here they entered a gloomy canon whose wall yielded only room 
for the foaming current, and a rude Indian road winding along at the base of the 
cliff. Here, too, game became scarcer, the wary, big-horned mountain sheep taking 
the place of the buffalo. The hills were clothed in pines. In the coarse grass of 
the bottom, the sunflower bloomed, of the seeds of which the Indians made bread. 
There were also gooseberries, and great quantities of red, purple, yellow, and black 
currants, very pleasant to the taste ; service-berries and choke-berries also — besides 
these, little that could sustain human life. The Indian road they supposed to be 
that used by the Shoshonesor Snakes, who inhabited in summer these mountain fast- 
nesses, returning to the low lands in winter; and being very anxious to meet them in 
order to obtain information of their route, as well as to procure horses, Captain Clarke 

* Precisely the theory advanced by Vasconello, the Jesuit, as to the origin of similar noises heard 
in the mountains of Brazil. The Indians who were with him told him it was an explosion of stones; 
"And it was so," he says, "for after some days the place was found where a rock had been burst, and 
from its interior, with the report which we had heard, was sent to light a little treasure — a sort of nut 
about the size and shape of a bull's heart, full of jewelry of different colors, some white, like trans- 
parent crystal, others of fine red, and some between white and red, imperfect as it seemed, and not 
yet completely formed by nature." Techo also states that the adjoining province of Guayra "is fa- 
mous for a sort of stone which nature, after a wonderful manner, produces in an oval stone case, about 
the bigness of a man's head. Tliese stone cases lying under ground, when they come to a certain 
maturity, fly like bombs in pieces about the air with much noise, and scatter about abundance of beauti- 
ful stones; but the stones are of no value." And Acuua, in his account of Teixeira's voyage down 
the Orellaria, says that the Indians assured them that "horrible noises were heard in the Sierra de 
Paraguasa from time to time, which is a certain sign that this mountain contains stones of great value 
in its entrails." Humboldt quotes M. Safoud as authority that similar noises are heard in the Moun- 
tains of Mexico. There is a mountain in Connecticut, near Middletown, where the phenomenon has 
been heard from time immemorial. Scientists ascribe it to the contraction of the outer shell of a cool- 
ing globe. 



THE SIGN OF FRIENDSHIP. 313 

was sent forward in advance with three men, so as to come upon them before the 
guns of the main body should frighten them and cause them to retire to the moun- 
tains. He pressed forward for several days along the rude trail, passing many de- 
serted Indian camps, but seeing nothing of the savages themselves. In fact, the 
latter had discovered their presence, and believing them to be their enemies, the 
Sioux, had hidden themselves, first raising great smokes to warn their fellows. Sharp 
flints and prickly pear piercing their feet along the way caused them intense suffer- 
ing. On July 22d, Charboneau's wife, the Snake woman, who was with the main 
party at a place called White Earth Creek from the white paint on its banks, recog- 
nized the country, and cheered them with the remark that the three forks of the 
Missouri were but a short distance away. This was the warmest day, save one, of 
the summer, the mercury standing at eighty degrees in the shade. They saw deer, 
crane, antelopes, ducks, otter, and beaver, on the river bottom, but no buffalo. 

On July 25th, Clarke reached the three forks of the Missouri, and began ex- 
ploring them to decide which would lead them nearest to the Columbia. Space will 
not allow us to give details of the explorations which resulted in the choice of the 
southwest fork — Jefferson — up which stream the party proceeded first, naming the 
three forks after three illustrious statesmen, Jefferson, Madison, and Gallatin. They 
were now several hundred miles within the mountainous country, and approaching 
the head streams of the Missouri, and still no Indians. Captain Lewis, about this 
time, took the advance. 

On August 11th, still following the Indian trail, he, to his great delight, discovered 
a man on horseback about two miles off, coming down the plain towards them, and 
through his glass saw that he was of a different nation from those before met. He 
sat on a fine horse without saddle, and guided it by a small thong attached to the 
under jaw. His arms were a bow and quiver of arrows. Convinced that he was a 
Shoshone, Captain Lewis advanced at his usual pace ; when they were a mile apart, 
the Indian suddenly stopped. The captain followed his example, and taking his 
blanket from his knap-sack, held it with both hands at the two corners, threw it above 
his head and unfolded it as if in the act of spreading it upon the ground — the sign 
of friendship among the Missouri and Rocky Mountain Indians. He repeated the 
signal three times. The Indian maintained his position, but looked suspiciously on 
Drewer and Shields, Captain Lewis' two companions, who were now advancing on 
either side. The captam was afraid to signal them to stop, lest he should increase 
the distrust of the Indian, and they were too distant to hear his voice. He, there- 



314 



"TABBA BONE.' 



fore, took from his pack some trinkets, and laying aside his gun, advanced toward the 
red man unarmed. The latter remained in the same position until the captain had 
advanced within two hundred yards, when he turned his horse. "Tabba bone," 
cried Captain Lewis, in a loud voice — ^the Shoshone for white man — but the Indian 
kept his eyes on the two hunters who were heedlessly advancing; whereupon the 




INDIAN BURIAL GROUND. 



captain signaled them to halt. Drewer obeyed, but Shields did not observe the sig- 
nal and kept on. Seeing Drewer halt, the Indian turned his horse as if to wait for 
Lewis who was advancing, repeating the words "Tabba bone," and holding up the 
trinkets in his hand, at the same time stripping up the sleeve of his blouse to show 
the white skin beneath. He was within one hundred paces when the Indian suddenly 



GLORY ENOUGH FOR ONE DAY. 315 

turned his horse, and giving him the whip leaped the creek and disappeared in its cov- 
erts. Captain Lewis, though disappointed, was not disheartened, and determined 
to follow the Indian's trail, hoping thus to come up with the main body. It led 
him into some high hills, where he lost it altogether. Places where the Indians 
had been digging roots, and other signs of their presence, were discovered. 
On the next day, August 12th, they came into a large, plain, Indian road which en- 
tered the valley from the northeast and wound along the foot of the mountain to the 
southwest, approaching the Missouri obliquely. Going on, they passed many small 
streams pouring down from. the mountains, until at the distance of seven miles the 
main stream had dwindled to such proportions that one of the men, in a fit of enthu- 
siasm, placed one foot on each side of the rivulet, and thanked God that he had lived 
to bestride the Missouri. Pushing on, "their hopes of soon seeing the Columbia rose 
almost to painful anxiety," when at a distance of four miles from the last abrupt 
turn in the stream they reached a small gap in the mountains through which ran the 
Indian road. "At the base of one of the lowest of these mountains, which rose with a 
gentle ascent of about half a mile, issued the remotest water of the Missouri . ' ' Travel- 
worn, dusty, pierced by thorn and flint, the little band gathered about the clear and 
icy fountain, quenched their thirst, and in the glory and enthusiasm of discovery for- 
got their toils, sufferings, and present dangers. They were the first white men to dis- 
cover the sources of the mighty river. For three thousand miles they had followed it 
to the parent fountain. There to the westward was the gentle height which formed the 
dividing line between the waters of the Atlantic and Pacific slopes. From its summit 
they saw high, snowy mountains to the west of them. Still hastening on they descended 
the western declivit}^ — much steeper than the eastern — and at a distance of three quar- 
ters of a mile came upon a large, clear-water creek running to the westward — one of 
the head branches of the Cohnnbia. This was glory enough for one day. They camped 
at a spring under the mountain side within sight of it, and having killed nothing, supped 
on their last piece of pork, which, with a little flour and parched meal, was all that re- 
mained of their provisions. Captain Lewis was nowmorethan ever desirous of meeting 
with the Shoshones, and next day had the good fortune to discover two women, a man 
and some dogs on a hill a mile before them. The Snakes, as usual, made off as the 
party approached them, but the dogs came close to them, and Captain Lewis, catching 
them, tied a handkerchief with some beads around their necks and let them go to re- 
join their owners. A mile farther on, following the trail of the Indians, they sur- 
prised three squaws, one of whom, a young woman, took to flight, but the other two, 



316 FRIENDLY SALUTATION OF THE SNAKES. 

a little girl and an old woman, seeing escape impossible, sank to the ground and held 
down their heads awaiting the blow of the tomahawk. Captain Lewis, however, took 
the woman by the hand, showed the white skin under his sleeve, presented her with 
beads, awls, paint, a pewter mirror, and told her to re-call the young woman who had 
escaped, and who by alarming the Indians might defeat his purpose. She did so, and 
the young Avoman returned breathless. The captain then gave her trinkets and 
painted the cheeks of all three Avith vermilion, which among the Shoshones signifies 
pacific intentions. Hetlien asked them to conduct him to their people, to which the}^ 
readily assented. They had gone but two miles, however, when they met a troop of 
nearly sixty painted warriors spurring at full speed toward them. The chief, who 
with two men was riding in advance, spoke with the women, and on their showing the 
presents they had received, the three leaped from their horses and embraced the captain 
with great cordiality, putting their left arms over his right shoulder and clasping his 
back, at the same time applying their left cheek to his, and frequently vociferating "Ah 
hie! ahhie!" ("I am much pleased. lam rejoiced.") The main troop then came for- 
ward and the three received their caresses, together with nuich of the paint and grease 
of their new friends. After due ceremonies, the travelers were conducted to the Indian 
camp about four miles distant, in a handsome level meadow on tlie bank of the river. 
There was but one lodge in it, spread with green boughs and antelope skins, and in 
this the visitors smoked the pipe of peace; after which. Captain Lewis explained the 
object of his visit, and made inquiries as to the course of the river at their feet. The 
chief told him that half a day's march below, that stream entered another of twice 
its size, coming in from the southwest, and added that below the river became 
so rapid, rocky, and with such precipitous mountain walls for banks, that it was 
impossible to descend it either with canoes or on foot — news very disheartening 
to the explorers. 

We must pass over briefly the efforts of Captain Lewis to induce the Snakes to go 
with him to meet Captain Clarke, who all this time, it will be remembered, was toil- 
ing with the main body up the Missouri, making but slow progress on account of the 
rapid and circuitous current. lie had already sent a messenger to apprise the latter 
of the discovery of the Columbia. The Indians feared treachery and ambuscade. At 
length they were induced to set out with their horses to transport the boats and 
stores. They left the Indian camp on August 15th. All the provisions the}^ had were 
two pounds of flour and some berries, which were divided among the Indians and the 
white men equally. Next day they were utterly without food, and the two hunters 



DESCENT OF THE WESTERN SLOPE OF THE ROCKIES. 317 

were sent on ahead to procure game — which so aroused the distrust of the Indians 
that thirty-one of them returned home. However, in a short time one of the hunters 
killed a deer, and distrust vanished in a mad scramble for food. The party reached 
the forks of the Jefferson, August 16th ; but as Captain Clarke had not arrived, they 
camped and waited for him. He was but four miles below, and the next morning the 
sundered parties were re-united, the Snake woman, Chaboneau's wMfe, recognizing 
many old friends among their allies. After holding a great council, preparations for 
descending the Columbia were begun. Captain Clarke, with eleven men, -was sent 
over to explore the latter river below the Indian camp, and to build canoes if he found 
it navigable, while Captain Lewis remained to transport the baggage and stores over 
the divide. Clarke was soon convinced that the water route by the branch of the 
Columbia they were on (the south fork, or Lewis River*) was impracticable, and in- 
quired if there w^as not a northern branch which offered a more feasible road. He 
learned that there was, and the chiefs decided to cross the mountains until they 
reached this river and then descend that to the sea. Although the latter part of 
August, it was very cold at that altitude, ice forming at night; game was very 
scarce; often the explorers w^ere without food for twenty-four hours. As soon as 
the necessary horses and outfit could be secured, and the route mapped out there- 
for, the party broke camp. It was August 30th when they set out with twenty-nine 
horses of their own, all heavily loaded, with an old Indian as guide and five others as 
helpers, who, however, quickly left them. At the same time their friends, the Sho- 
shones, departed for their winter quarters in the lower Missouri valley. The course 
of the explorers was northwest — over the mountains, until they descended into some 
affluent of the Lewis, up or down its valley until they found a feasible route out of 
it on the opposite side, cutting their way through trees and brush, crossing on the 
stony sides of hills where the horses fell or crippled themselves, overtaken by storms 
of snow and sleet, subsisting on parched corn and such pheasants, hares, deer, and 
other mountain game as they could shoot, and w^hen they failed, killing a fat J^oung 
horse — thus for twenty -three days they toiled on, until on the 22d of September 
they descended the last of the Rocky Mountains, and reached the level, open coun- 
try. They were on Lewis River (below the mountains). Twisted Hair, chief of 
the Pierced Nose tribe, who dwelt on its banks, drew for them a chart of its course 
on a white elk-skin. Two days' journey south was a large fork on wdiich the Snakes 
fished; five days lower down was a large river from the northwest, into which 
* So named by Captain Clarke in honor of Captain Lewis, ttie discoverer. 



318 THE GREAT DEED ACCOMPLISHED. 

Lewis River emptied, and from the mouth of that river to the falls was five days' 
journey farther. As soon as the party could find timber, they built canoes, and in 
these descended the river, meeting with the usual hardships and adventures. On 
October 22d they reached the Great Falls, which they passed by means of toilsome 
portages; and on November 2d, descending the last rapids, met tide water, and rose 
and fell with the surges of the Pacific. 

The great deed was accomplished — the pathway to the Pacific opened. Three 
miles below, the river was a mile wide. Four miles further on, it was double that 
breadth. The tide rose about nine inches. Henceforth to the ocean, the greatest 
peril was from the gales which raised such seas as nearly to swamp their frail craft, 
and wet and chilled them to the bone. On November 15th they came into the great 
estuary at the mouth of the Columbia, and heard the surf beating on the strand be- 
yond Cape Disappointment. After exploring the shores for several days, they fixed 
their winter quarters on the high bank of a river entering the bay, "in a thick grove 
of lofty pines, about two hundred j^ards from the water and thirty feet above the 
level of the high tides." 

Space will not permit an account of their long, lonely winter here, nor of the return 
journey in the spring by the way they had come, verifying their explorations, at 
times laying out newer and more feasible routes. History records that at twelve 
o'clock, on September 25th, 1806, they rounded to at St. Louis, and having fired a 
salute, went on shore and received a most hearty and hospitable welcome from the 
whole village. 

Captain Lewis was soon after appointed governor of the great territory he had 
penetrated, and Clarke agent for Indian affairs; while Congress, in 1807, voted a 
donation of land to the members of his party. Captain Lewis died in 1809, while on 
his way to Philadelphia to superintend the publication of his Journals. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



JOHN CHAKLES FREMONT, THE PATH-FINDER. 



BIRTH AND CHARACTER. HIS FIRST ESSAY AS AN EXPLORER. EXPLORES AND DESCRIBES THE 

SOUTH PASS, AND THE COUNTRY BETWEEN. HIS SECOND EXPEDITION. THE WESTERN SLOPE 

OP THE ROCKIES. HIS DARING ADVENTURES. DISCOVERS GREAT SALT LAKE, THE SIERRA 

NEVADA RANGE, THE SACRAMENTO AND SAN JOAQUIN. THIRD EXPEDITION. SAVES CALIFOR- 
NIA TO THE UNION. A MIDNIGHT ALARM AND MASSACRE. HIS FOURTH EXPEDITION. 

MAPS OUT A ROUTE FOR A RAILROAD TO THE PACIFIC. SENATOR FROM CALIFORNIA. HIS 

DEATH. 

IN the year 1842, there was in the regular army a 3'Oiing lieutenant of engineers, 
strong of body, of a singularly keen, quick, vigorous intellect, a born leader, 
and burning to distinguish himself in ways other than in ball-rooms, and fete-day 
processions. He had not entered the army through the recognized gateway, — West 
Point, — having been appointed lieutenant in the engineer corps for his scholarship, — 
and had, a few years before, somewhat distinguished himself by running away with 
and marrying the lovely Jessie Benton, daughter of the eminent Senator Benton, 
the stern father having most unreasonably, as the young people thought, forbidden 
their union. 

The whole country to the west and southwest of the frontiers of Missouri was, so 
recently as 1842, unexplored and unmapped, and this young oiBcer now proposed to 
Colonel Abert, Chief of the Topographical Bureau, to lead an expedition "to examine 
and report upon the rivers and country between the frontiers of Missouri and the 
base of the Rocky Mountains; and especially to examine the character, and ascertain 
the latitude and longitude, of the South Pass." Government gave its consent, and 
well supplied with astronomical and barometrical instruments, and accompanied by 
twenty-five hardy voyageurs, Fremont left the mouth of the Kansas, on the frontier 
of Missouri, on June 10th, 1842, and plunged boldly into the wilderness. He pro- 
ceeded up the Kansas far enough to ascertain its true character, then crossed over to 
the Great Platte, followed its course to its source in the Rocky Mountains, where the 

319 



320 



FIRST ESSAY AS AN EXPLORER. 



Sweetwater, its head branch, brimming with melted snow, issues from the neighbor- 
hood of the South Pass. He reached this pass, and described it as a wide and low 
depression of the mountains, where the ascent is as easy as that of the hill on which 
the capitol stands, and where a plainly beaten wagon-road led to the Oregon through 




John c. fremont. 

the valley of Lewis River, a fork of the Columbia. He went through the pass and 
saw the head-waters of the Colorado, of the Gulf of California, and leaving the val- 
leys to indulge a laudable curiosity and to make some useful observations, and at- 
tended by four of his men, climbed the loftiest peak of the Eocky Mountains, until 
then untrodden by any known human being, and on the 15th of August looked down 



THE VALLEY 01' THE GREAT PLATTE. 



321 



on the ice and snow some thousand feet below, and traced in the distance the 
valleys of the rivers, which, taking their rise in the same elevated ridge, flow in 
opposite directions to the Pacific Ocean, and to the Mississippi. From that ulti- 
mate point he returned by the valley of the Great Platte, following the stream 
in its whole course, and solving all questions as to its navigabihty, and the char- 
acter of the country through which it flows. Over the great region thus tra- 
versed. Lieutenant Fremont ascertained the elevation both of the plains and 
mountains, their latitude and longitude; character of the soil, whether barren or 




THK FKONTIElt OF MISSOURI AT THE PERIOD OF FREMONT'S EXPEDITION. 



fertile; the practicability of routes across it; indicated military positions; de- 
scribed its magnificent natural scenery, presenting some in drawings; mapped the 
whole, and made laro;e contributions to geology and botany in the varieties of 
plants, flowers, shrubs, trees and grasses, rocks and earths, which were enumer- 
ated. Eight carts, drawn by two mules each, accompanied the expedition, show- 
ing the feasibility of the route followed. Herds of buffalo furnished subsis- 
tence to the men, and a short, nutritious grass sustained the horses and mules. 
21 



322 ONfi EXPEDITION KXt)ED, AND A SECOND BEGUN. 

The young explorer gained great renown by these discoveries, and a thousand 
copies of his report were ordered printed for general distribution. It was not 
until his second expedition, however, that his fame became world-wide, and his 
name Avas placed among those of the greatest explorers. The expedition of 
Lewis and Clarke had its origin in the fertile brain of Jefferson, but the plan of 
Fremont's explorations originated with himself. That of 1842 only inflamed his 
ardor; scarcely was it finished, ere he i^lanned a second and greater one, from 
which vast political and social benefits were to flow. Fremont was off and away 
the moment he obtained the government's consent, yet ere he could move from 
the Missouri frontier, orders arrived at St. Louis to stop him, on the ground 
that he had made a military equipment, which the peaceful nature of his scien- 
tific pursuit did not require — as if Indians and wild beasts would discriminate be- 
tween scientists and soldiers. Mrs. Fremont, at St. Louis, was empowered to open 
all letters to him, and forward only the most important. She wisely detained 
these absurd orders, and the expedition moved without its commander's knowledge 
of their existence. Our account of this expedition in condensed from the narra- 
tive o-iven by Senator Benton, father-in-law of General Fremont, in his "Thirty 
Years' View." 

To complete his survey across the continent on the route between Missouri and 
the tide-water region of the Columbia, was Fremont's ostensible object; but this 
was only a part — and to his mind an insignificant part — of what he proposed do- 
ino". People had been to the mouth of the Columbia before, and his ambition 
was not limited to making tracks where others had made them before him. There 
was a vast region beyond the Rocky Mountains — the whole western slope of our 
continent — of which but little was known, and of that little nothing with the ac- 
curacy of science. All that vast region, more than seven hundred miles square, 
equal to a great kingdom in Europe, was an unknown land, a sealed book which 
he longed to open. Leaving the frontier of Missouri in May, 1843, and often 
diverging from his route for the sake of expanding his field of observation, he 
had reached the tide-water region of the Columbia by the month of November, 
having completed the whole service which his orders embraced. He might then 
have returned with credit upon his tracks, or been brought home by sea, or 
hunted the most pleasant path for getting back. Not he, however. The unknown 
region to the south challenged him to penetrate its mysteries. He was at Fort 
Vancouver, guest of Dr. McLaughlin, Governor of the British Hudson Bay Com- 



FINDS A DESERT, BUT NO BUENA VENTURA. 32o 

[yduy, who gave him all the information of this unknown region he possessed, 
which, however, proved to be sadly misleading. He laid out a southwest route 
across the great unknown region diagonally through its heart, as his line of return. 
Twenty-five men — the same who had come with him — and a hundred horses, were 
his e(]uipment, and the beginning of winter the time of starting — all Avithout a guide, 
relying upon their guns for support, and as a last resort upon their horses — such as 
should give out — for one capable of carrying man or pack coukl not be spared. All 
previous maps had shown this region traversed from east to west by a great river 
called the Buena Ventura, which may be translated the Last CJiance. Governor 
McLaughlin believed in the existence of this river, as did Fremont, and his plan was 
to reach it before the dead of winter, and then hibernate upon its banks. As a 
great river he knew it must have rich bottoms, covered with wood and grass, where 
wild animals would collect for shelter; and with these animals to live on, and grass 
for his horses and wood for fires, he expected to avoid suffering, if not to enjoy 
comfort. He proceeded, soon encountered deep snows which impeded progress on 
the high lands, descended into a low country on the left — afterward known as the 
Great Basin — from which no water issues to any sea ; skirted an enormous chain of 
mountains on the right, luminous with glittering snow, saw strange Indians, who 
mostly fled, found a desert — no Buena Ventura; and death from cold and famine 
stared him in the face. The failure to find the river or tidings of it, and its exist- 
ence seeming to be forbidden by the structure of the country, hibernation in 
the inhospitable desert being impossible, and the question one of life or death, a 
new plan of action became necessary. His observations told him he was in the 
latitude of the Bay of San Francisco, and only seventy miles from it. But what 
miles ! Up and down that snowy mountain, which the Indians told him no man could 
cross in winter, which had snow upon it deep as the trees, and places where people 
would step off and fall half a mile at a time — a fate which actually befell a nuile 
packed with the precious burden of botanical specimens collected along a trail of 
two thousand miles. No reward could induce an Indian to guide them across the 
mountain. All recoiled from the adventure. It was attempted without a guide, 
in the dead of winter, accomplished in forty days, the men and surviving horses a 
woeful procession, crawling along one by one; skeleton men leading skeleton horses, 
and arriving at Suter's settlement in the beautiful valley of the Sacramento, where 
genial warmth, budding flowers, trees in foliage, green herbage, flowing streams 
and generous supply of good food, made a fairy contrast to the famine and freezing 



324 DISCOVERY OF SALT I.AIvK AND THE SIERRA NEVADA RANGE. 

they had encountered, and the lofty Sierra Nevada they had scaled. Here the 
party rested and recruited. Another long progress to the south, skirting the 
western base of the Sierra, made him acquainted with the noble valley of the San 
Joaquin, counterpart of the Sacramento. Crossing through a gap and turning 
to the left, he skirted the Great Basin, and by many deviations from the direct line 
home, levied incessant contributions to science from extended lands not described 
before. 

In this eventful exploration, all the great features of the western slope of our con- 
tinent were brought to light — the Great Salt Lake, Utah Lake, Little Salt Lake, the 
Sierra Nevada, valleys of the Sacramento and San Joaquin, the Great Basin itself 
and its contents, the Three Parks; the approximation of the great rivers, which, ris- 
ing together in the central region of the Rocky Mountains, go off east and west 
towards the rising and setting sun — all these and other strange features were brought 
to light by this exploration. Eleven months he was never out of sight of snow, and 
sometimes freezing with cold, would look down upon a sunny valley, genial with heat; 
sometimes panting with summer's heat, would look up at the eternal snows which 
covered the neio-hborino; mountains. 

It was not then, however, that California was secured to the Union, to which it of 
right belonged ; but it was the first step which led up to the acquisition. This sec- 
ond expedition led to a third, just in time to snatch the golden California from the 
hands of the British ready to clutch it. And now, for the third expedition. 

It set out in May, 1845. Hostilities had not then broken out between this country 
and Mexico, but Texas had been annexed ; the preservation of peace was precarious, 
and Captain Fremont decided early that no act of his should become a cmisus belli. 
His route led through a Mexican province — the Alta California — and he was careful, 
before entering, to obtain consent of the Mexican government; leaving his company 
of sixty men and two hundred horses on the frontier, and proceeding alone to Mont- 
ere}^ the desired permission was obtained. It was soon rescinded, however, and the 
explorer turned his back on California and set out for Oregon, determined to explore 
a new route to the Wah-la-math settlements, an estuarv of the Columbia, through 
the wild and lofty region of the Klamath Lakes. A romantic interest attached to 
this region, from the grandeur of its features, its lofty mountains, and snow-clad 
peaks, and from the formidable character of its warlike inhabitants. He had reached 
the great Klamath Lake in 42° north latitude, and was exploring it when he was 
startled by the appearance of two men, Avho proved to be old voyageurs of his, and 



ARRIVAL OF LIEUTENANT GILLESPIE. 325 

who said they formed part of an escort of six men attending an officer of the United 
States, with dispatches from Washington ; that they had been on his trail many days, 
and had left the officer — Lieutenant Gillespie, of the navy — two days back, and had 
pushed on rapidly to overtake them, having only escaped the Indians by the swift- 
ness of their horses, and they asked assistance for the imperiled party. Captain 
Fremont, alarmed for the safety of his companion in arms, and for the dispatches, 
decided to go himself, and head the party of rescue. Detailing ten picked men, four 
of them Delaware Indians, he set out on the return trail. Had there been but one 
route which they might pursue, the task of rescue would have been less difficult, but 
there were several, and there was danger of passing unaware the approaching party. 
At intervals, however, there were defiles, through which all must pass, and to one of 
these, after riding sixty miles, he came in the afternoon, and being convinced that 
the party, if not killed, must be there that night, he halted and encamped ; and as the 
sun was going down, had the inexpressible pleasure of seeing four men approaching 
— the party in question. Lieutenant Gillespie, he learned, had been sent from Wash- 
ington the November previous, via Vera Cruz, the City of Mexico, and Mazatlan, to 
Monterey in Upper California, to deliver dispatches to our consul there, and then to 
find Fremont and deliver to him a letter of introduction from Mr. Buchanan, the Sec- 
retary of State, with verbal orders for Mr. Fremont to watch and counteract any 
foreign scheme on California, and to conciliate and secure the good will of the in- 
habitants toward the United States. Upon this, the explorer turned back from the 
edge of Oregon, where he then was, and returned to California. A sketch of the ad- 
ventures which befell the party the night it met Lieutenant Gillespie, Avill serve to 
show the perils and hardships to which the}^ were exposed. 

The camp was pitched on the western shore of the lake, the horses picketed with 
long halters on the shore to feed, and the men, fourteen in all, slept by threes at dif- 
ferent fires disposed in a square, for danger required them so to sleep in order to be 
ready for an attack. His feelings joyfully excited by news from home, Captain Fre- 
mant sat up until a late hour at a large fire, reading his letters and papers, and him- 
self watching while the men slept. Toward midnight he heard an alarm among the 
horses, indicative of terror and danger, and taking a six-barreled pistol, and without 
waking the camp, went down among them. The moon shone brightly, but he could 
discover nothing, and having quieted the disturbed animals he returned, supposing it 
to have been a bear or a mountain lion. Lieutenant Gillespie woke up, talked with 
him a while, and then slept again. At length, Fremont himself, exhausted with 



326 



A MIDNIGHT MASSACRE. 



fatigue, dropped asleep, and the whole camp slumbered, with none on guard. A cry 
from Kit Carson, the celebrated scout, Fremont's trusted lieutenant on this and 
other expeditions, aroused it. Carson had heard the groan of a man as the tom- 
ahawk sunk into his brain. All sprang to their feet. The Klamaths were upon 
them, and the noiseless hatchet and winged arrow were doing their work. Basil 

-L - \lrtg^ Lajennesse, a brave and 

y" ^^^te faithful 3^oung French- 

" -x---..^= man, the follower of Fre- 

mont in all his expedi- 
tions, was dead; an 
Iowa was dead ; a brave 
Delaware, one of those 
who had accompanied 
Fremont from Missouri, 
was dj'ing; it was his 
groan that had awakened 
Carson. Another of the 
Delawares was the tar- 
get for arrows, from 
which no rifle could save 
him, only avenge him. 
The savages had ap- 
proached from the side 
of the camp lying in 
shadow, and had used 
only the hatchet and 
bow, whose missile gave 
forth neither flash nor 
sound. The men, spring- 
ing to their feet, their 
arms in their hands, 
fought Avith skill and courage, and beat back their assailants; but it was a narrow es- 
cape. The Klamath chief was slain and left behind, and in the morning Gillespie 
recognized in him the chief who, the morning before, had given him a salmon in token 
of friendship, and Avho had followed him all day to kill and rob his party at night. 




FOKT ON THE WESTKKN BORDER. 



THE SITUATION IN CALIFORNIA. 



327 



Captain Fremont would himself have been killed when he went to the horses, had 
not the savages feared to arouse the camp by the act. 

In the midst of such dangers and occupations as these, Captain Fremont was pur- 
suing science and shunning war, when the instructions from Washington suddenly 
changed his plans, turned him back from Oregon, and opened a new and splendid 
field of operations in California. He entered the valley of the Sacramento in May, 
1846, and found the country critically and alarmingly situated. Three great oper- 
ations fatal to American interest were then going on, and without remedy if not 
arrested at once. These were: 1. The massacre of all Americans, and destruction 
of their settlements in the Sacramento valley. 2. The placing of California under 




INDIAN ATTACK ON FREMONT'S PARTY. 

British protection. 3. The transfer of the public domain to British subjects ; all 
with a view to anticipate the events of a Mexican war, and to keep California from 
the arms of the United States. The Americans in the valley at once sent a deputa- 
tion to Captain Fremont, laid their dangers before him, and besought him to place 
himself at their head and save them from destruction. General Castro was then 
marching upon them. The Indians were being instigated to attack them. Intrigue 
was in the air. War had almost broken out between Mexico and the United States, 
but of this Fremont was unaware. This fact caused the soldier to hesitate, but the 
near approach of Castro overcame his reluctance to embroil his government in war, 
and he decided to put himself at the head of the people and save California to the 



328 



CALIFORNIA SAVED TO THE UNION. 



Union. This resolve was gallantly carried out. In thirty days all northern Cali- 
fornia was freed from Mexican rule, independence proclaimed, Castro flying south, 
the American settlers saved, the British party outwitted, and its schemes broken up. 
The subsequent military events can be traced in any history. They were the natural 
sequence of the great measure conceived and executed by Fremont, before any 
squadron had arrived on the coast, before he knew of the war with Mexico, and with- 
out authority from his government, except what was conveyed in the enigmatical 
verbal instructions of Lieutenant Gillespie.* 

Can it be believed that the man who accomplished all this was brought home a 
prisoner, tried by court-martial on absurd and trumped up charges, convicted through 




CROSSING THE PLAINS IN WAGONS. 

professional jealousy of all, and sentenced to be dismissed from the service? Yet 
such was the fact. President Polk remitted the sentence, whereupon Colonel 
Fremont sent in his resignation, "For," said he, "I do not feel conscious of having 
done anything to deserve the finding of the court, and, this being the case, I cannot, 
by accepting the clemency of the President, admit the justice of the decision against 
me." 

* I have followed the account of these transactions given by Col. Benton. It is only fair to say that 
Mr. Royce and other equally competent historians take a very different and far less creditable view of 
Fremont's action throughout this whole proceeding— the Bear Flag movement as it was called. 



MAPPING OUT A ROUTE TO THE PACIFIC. 



329 



No sooner was he freed from the army, than our brave explorer organized another 
expedition at his own expense, to be conducted in winter, and along a new line of 
exploration. He sought to map out a route for a railroad to the Pacific. The moun- 
tain men had told him there was a good pass at the head of the Rio Grande del 
Norte, and he would go there to find out. Setting out from the Pueblos on the 
upper Arkansas, toward the last of November, 1848, at the base of the first Sierra he 




THE SUCCESSOK TO THE WAGON TRAIN. 

dismounted, his company took to their feet, and wading Avaist deep in beds of 
dazzling, unbroken snow, arrived on the other side in the beautiful valley of the San 
Juan, but still on the eastern side of the mountain chain which divides the continent. 
At the head of this valley was the desired pass. With his glasses he could see the 
depression in the mountain which marked it. He had taken a local guide to lead 
them thither, but the fellow led them instead up a tortuous valley, out upon the 



330 LAST PUBLIC SERVICES AND DEATH OF FREMONT. 

highest summits of the Rockies, above the line of perpetual snow, where in the sum- 
mer solstice even there was no thaw. They crossed the bare and lifeless summit, 
and were hurrying down on the other side, when a terrible mountain storm of snow 
and hail assailed them. The snow became too deep for the mules, which froze stiff 
as they stood, and fell over like blocks, to become hillocks of snow. Leaving every- 
thing, thinking only of saving their lives, the discomfited and freezing party scram- 
bled back, re-crossed the summit, and found, in a wood some distance down the 
mountain, shelter and means of building a fire. The party now made its way to the 
nearest Mexican settlements, and after suffering incredible hardships, reached Taos, 
and were succored by Kit Carson, the faithful guide and retainer. This expedition 
was a failure, but a subsequent one was entirely successful. It went to the spot 
Avhere the guide had gone astray, followed the course described by the mountain 
men, and found safe and easy passes all the way to California, through a good coun- 
try, on the parallels of thirty-eight and thirty-nine degrees. 

After this Mr. Fremont settled in California, and was one of the leaders of the 
Free-soil party there. On its admission into the Union, in 1850, California sent him 
as its first Senator to Congress, and in 1856 he was nominated for President by the 
first Convention of the newly organized Republican party. General Fremont's serv- 
ices to the Union in the late war, and his death in 1890, are events of too recent 
date to need recapitulation here. 



PART II. 

CHAPTER XV. 
THE OLD WILDERNESS ROAD. 



EARLY SETTLERS IN KENTUCKY. HANIEL BOONE TO THE RESCUE. ITINERARY OF WILLIAM 

CALK. THE RI1>E OF CAPTAIN VAN CLEVE. THE ROUTE BY THE OHIO RIVER. ITS PERILS 

AND HARDSHIPS. CAPTAIN HUBBELL'S DESPERATE ENCOUNTER WITH INDIANS. 

THE earliest settlement of Kentucky began in 1775, when the first block-house 
Avas built bv Daniel Boone and his associates at Boonesborouirh, on the Ken- 
tucky River, five hundred miles west of the Atlantic coast, as the crow flies, and 
three hundred west of the crest of the Alleghany Mountains, which the settlers 
had to cross. The way was a hard and long one, beset by obstacles and dangers 
of every kind; and 3'et so keenly were the new lands of the west coveted by the 
people east of the mountains, that the census of 1790 showed that there were 
73,000 people between the Ohio and Cumberland Rivers. Two years later Ken- 
tucky was admitted into the Union, and the census of 1800 gave her a popula- 
tion of 220,000. To reach the land of the cane, this great body of people had 
to scale barriers which faint hearts would have held to be insurmountable; and 
to cross a wilderness three hundred miles in extent, where almost every night 
and day of the journey they were exposed to the attacks of the savages. So 
deadly was the way, that its whole course M^as marked by heaps of bleaching 
bones, and so rough that wagons had to be abandoned and a good part of the 
journey accomplished on horseback or on foot, the rifle alwaj^s in hand and ready 
for use. Yet women came as well as men — wives, sisters, sweethearts, mothers 
carrying their babes in their arms all the toilsome and perilous way, throughout 
which the drill and discipline of a camp had to be kept up — sentinels at night, 

scouts by day. 

331 



332 DANIEL BOONE TO THE RESCUE. 

In 1774, a messenger riding in haste from Lord Dunmore, the Royal Gover- 
nor of Virginia, came to the cabin of Daniel Boone, on the bank of the Clinch 
River, with the m-gent request that he Avould start at once for the Falls of the Ohio, 
now Louisville, and lead back to safety a company of surveyors Avhose lives were 
threatened by the savages. Alone Boone performed the journey of four hundred 
miles, informed the surveyors of their peril, brought them back with him to the 
Clhich, and at the end of sixty-two days was again in his cabin, having accomplished 
a journey of eight hundred miles on foot. Later in his eventful life, he was taken 
prisoner by the Indians, carried to the heart of the present State of Ohio, whence he 
escaped and reached his Fort, Boonesborough, having performed the journey of more 
than a hundred and fifty miles in four daj^s, again on foot. And it was thus that 
most of the settlers journeyed in the early days. Horses were used by women and 
children, and for packs. 

The following is part of the itinerary kept by one William Calk, who started with 
a number of friends from Prince William County, Virginia, on March 13, 1775, 
crossing the Blue Ridge, the valley of Virginia, the Alleghany range and the new 
river, stopping to refresh themselves at old Fort Chezzle or Chiswell, then pushing on 
to Major Campbell's (hero of King's Mountain fame in later days), on one of the 
heads of the Holston River. From a little beyond this point Mr. Calk shall tell his 
story in his own spelling and punctuation, or want of it. 

^^Frijdaij, March 24th, we come to aturble mountain that tired us almost to death to 
git over it and we lodge this night on the Laurel Fork of Holston under a grait mountain 
and roast turkey for our supper, and eat it without aney bread, Satrd 25th, we start 
early over some more very bad mountains one that is called Clinch Mountain and we git 
this night to Danil Smiths on Clinch and their we staid till Thursday morning on Tues- 
day night and Wednesday it snowed very hard and was very coald and we hunted a good 
deal there while we staid in rough mountains and killed three dear and one turkey 
Eanock Abram and I got lost Tuesday night and it a snowin and should a lain in 
the mountains had not I had a pocket compas by which I got in a little in the night 
and fired guns and they heard them and caim in by the repoart. Thursd 30th, we set 
out again and went down to Elk Gardin and there suplied our selves with seed corn 
and Irish tators then we went on a little way I turned my hors to drive before me and 
he gott scard and threw down the saddle bags and broke three of our powder goards 
and Abrams beast burst open a walet of corn and lost a good deal and made a tur- 
rable flustration amongst the reast of the horses Drakes mair run against a sapling 
and noct it down, we catcht them all agin and went on and lodged at John Duncans. 



ITINEKARY OF WILLIAM CALK. 'doo 

Frjd. Slst, we supljed our selves at Dunkans with a 103 pounds of bacon and 
went on again and Brileys Mill and suplj^ed ourr-selves with meal and lodged this 
night on Clinch by a large cainbraike and cucket our suppers. 

April Saturday 1st, This morning there is ice at our camp half inch thick we start 
early and travel this day along a very bad hilley way cross one creek where the horses 
araost got mired some fell in and all wet their loads we cross Clinch Eiver and till 
late in the night and camp on Cave Creek having two men with us that wair pilates. 

Sund. 2nd, — This morning is a very hard frost we start early travel over Powels 
Mountain and camp in the head of Powels Valley whear there is veary good food. 

Mond 3rd, — We start early travel down the valey cross Powels River go through 
some woods without aney track cross some bad hills git in to Hendersons Road camp 
on a creek in Powels Valey. 

Tuesday 4th, — Raney we start about 10 o'clock and git down to Capt Martins in the 
valey where we overtake Col Henderson and his company bound for Caintuck and 
there we camp this night there they were broiling and eating beef without bread. 

Wedsesday 5th, — Breaks away fair and we go on down the valley and camp on 
Indian Creek we had this creek to cross maney times and very bad banks Abrams 
saddle turned and the load all fell in we got out this eavening and kill two deer. 

Fryday 7th, — This morning is a very bad snowey morning we still continue at camp 
being in number about forty men and some neagros this eaven comes a letter from 
Capt Boone at Caintuck of the Indians doing mischief and some turns back. 

Saturday 8th, — We all pack up and started crost Cumberland Gap about one o'clock 
this day met a good maney peopel turned back for fear of the Indians but our com- 
pany goes on still with good courage we come to a very ugly creek with steep banks 
and have to cross it several times on this creek we have to camp this night. 

Sunday 9th, — This morning we wait at camp for the cattel to be drove up to kill a 
beef tis late before they come and peopel makes out a little snack and agree to go on 
till night we git to Cumberland River and there we camp meet two more men turn back. 

Monday 10th, — This is a lowry morning and vciy like for rain and we keep at 
camp this clay and some goes out a hunting and I and two more goes up a very 
large mountain near the tops we saw the track of two Indians and whear they had 
lain under some rocks some of the company went over the river a bufelo hunting, 
but found none at night Capt Hart comes up Avith his packs and there the}' hide 
some of their load to lighten their packs that they may travel faster. 

Tuesday 11th, — This a very loury morning and like for rain but we all agree to 
start earl}' and we cross Cumberland River and travel down it about ten miles 



334 ITINERARY OF WILLIAM CALK, 

through some turrabel cainbreaks as we went down Abrams mair ran into the river 
with her load and swam over he followed her and got on her and made her swim 
back agin it is a very raney evening we take up camp near Eichland Creek they kill 
a beef Mr. Drake bakes bread without washing his hands we keep sentry this night 
for fear of Indians. 

Wednesday 12th — This is a raney da}^ but we pack up and go on we come to Eich- 
land Creek it is high we tote our packs over on a tree and swim our horses over, 
and there we meet another companey going back the}^ tell such news Abram and 
Drake is afraid to go aney farther there we camp this night. 

Thursday 13th — This morning the weather seems to brake and be fair Abram and 
Drake turn back we so on and sit to Loral River we come to a creek before wheare 
we are able to unload and to take our packs over on a log this day we meet about 
twenty more turning back we are obliged to toat our packs over Loral River and 
swim our horses one hors ran in with his pack and lost it in the river and they got 
it agin. 

Sunday 16th — ^Cloudy and warm we start early and go on about two miles down 
the river and then turn up a creek that we crost about fifty times some very bad 
foards with a great deal of very good land on it in the eavening we git over to the 
waters of Caintuck and go a little down the creek and there we camp keep sentel 
the fore part of the night it rains very hard all night. 

Tuesday 18th — Fair and cool we go on about ten o'clock we meet four men from 
Boons camp that caim to cunduck us on we camp this night just on the beginning 
of the good land near the Blue Lick they kill two bofeloes this eavening. 

Wednesday 19th — Smart frost this morning they kill three bofelos about eleven 
o'clock we come to where the Indians fired on Boons company and killed two men 
and a dog and wounded one man in the thigh we campt this night on Otter Creek. 

Thursday 20th — This morning is clear and cool, we start early and git down to 
Caintuck to Boons foart about twelve o'clock where we stop they come out to 
meet us, and welcome us in Avith a voley of guns." 

This unvarnished picture lets us see something of the hardship and peril of "the 
old wilderness road," by which so many thousands reached their land of promise. 

In 1792, the route of Captain Van Cleve from Fort AVashington (Cincinnati) to 
Philadelphia, when proceeding under orders "with all dispatch," was byway of Lex- 
ington, Crab Orchard, Cumberland Gap, Ky., Powell's Valley, Abingdon, Botetourt, 
in Virginia, Hagerstown, Maryland, and York to Lancaster, Penn. The distance thus 



THE ROUTE BY THE OHIO RIVER. 



335 



traveled was eight hundred and twenty-six miles — of which five hundred and sixtv- 
four lay west of Staunton, and the time required for the journey was not far from a 
month. 

The only other route for the new-comers was by the Ohio River after it had been 
reached by Forbes' Military Road from Philadelphia to Pittsburg, or by Braddock's 
Road from Alexandria, Virginia, by Wills Creek, now Cumberland, Maryland, across 
the mountains to Redstone, now Brownsville, Pennsylvania, on the Monongahela. 




BURIAL GROUND OF THE DEI.AWARES ON THE OHIO. 



A party of from ten to twenty-five, men, women and children, with goods and chat- 
tels, and even horses, would embark on the rude flat-boat of the time, making the 
best speed possible, by the use of "sweeps" (long; oars), a simple steering apparatus, 
and stout poles to be used in shallow water. The northern bank of the Ohio from 
a little way below Pittsburg was infested by bands of savages, so that a gauntlet had 
to be run, even more dreadful than that of the "wilderness." The story which fol- 
lows will illustrate the dangers of the voyage. 



33t) CAPTAIN IIUBBELL S DESPERATE 

111 1791, Captain Hubbell was descending the river with a party of twenty — nine 
men, the rest women and children. One morning about daylight, a voice at some 
distance below them in a plaintive tone repeatedly solicited them to come on shore, 
as there were some white people who wished to obtain a passage in their boat. The 
captain knew that this was a decoy, and its only effect was to rouse the men and put 
every one on his guard. The sound of paddles soon announced the coming of the 
savage foe. Three canoes were seen rapidly advancing, every man on the boat took 
his position, and the captain gave the order not to fire until the blaze might singe 
their eyebrows, and the firing was to be successive, so that there should be no interval. 
On their coming near, the canoes were seen to contain twenty-five Indians each. As 
soon as they were Avithin range they opened a deadly fire, and two of the whites were 
severely wounded. The three canoes took position, one at the bow, one at the port 
side, and one aft, so that the Indians raked the boat, fore and aft and midship. The 
fire of Ilubbell and his men at short range was so effective as to check the confidence 
and fury of the Indians. 

The captain, after firing his own gun, took up that of one of the wounded men, 
raised it to his shoulder, and was about to discharge it when a ball came and took 
away the lock. He coolly turned round, seized a brand of fire from the kettle which 
served for a galley, and applying it to the pan, discharged the piece with effect. He 
was just in the act of raising his gun the third time, when a ball passed through his 
riijht arm, and for a moment disabled him. Scarcely had he recovered from the 
shock and regained the use of his hand, which had been paralyzed for a moment, 
when he observed that the Indians in the canoe at the bow Avere making ready to 
board where the horses stood. Severely wounded as he was, he caught up a pair of 
horseman's pistols and rushed forward to repel the boarding party, and discharged a 
pistol with effect at the foremost savage, which made the others fall back. Firing his 
second pistol with equal effect, he then seized a club and used it with such force 
on the heads of several of the red men, that with a yell of rage and despair they re- 
tired. After a time, however, the attack was renewed, and, although the gallant 
captain had received two serious wounds and had only four uuAvounded men to sup- 
port him, the defense was maintained with such desperate courage that one canoe 
after another drew off and retired to the shore. The peril, however, was not yet 
passed, for a little way below where the fight had taken place the boat drifted near 
the northern bank, as there were only two sound men to man the oars. Believing 
the boat and her crew to be within their grasp, a crowd of four or five hundred 



ENCOUNTER WITH THE INDIANS. 337 

Indians left cover, rushed down the bank and delivered a deadly fire. Strange to say, 
although the oars were riddled with balls, the men that worked them were not hit, 
and by tremendous exertions managed to pull the craft to the current in the middle 
of the river, and so reached Limestone, now Maysville, Ky. Of the nine men two were 
killed, one mortall}^ wounded, and four severely, while not a few hurts were distrib- 
uted among the women and children, and four of the five horses on board were slain. 
Thus, for many j^ears the northern bank of the river was a death-trap for those who 
sought homes in the West by way of the beautiful Ohio. The overwhelming blow 
delivered by General Wayne to the red men by his victory at Fallen Timber, in 1794, 
opened the Ohio as a highway for trade and travelers. 
22 



CHAPTER XVI. 



THE OLD PREACHERS AND THEIR PREACHING. 



CHRISTIAN FREDERICK POST. FATE OF THE MORAVIAN INDIANS. PIONEER CHURCHES. 

CAMP MEETINGS. STRANGE MANIFESTATIONS THERE. THE JERKS — CHARACTER, GENIUS AND 

METHODS OF THE EARLY PREACHERS. THE ANNUAL CONFERENCES BISHOP ASBURY. 

ANECDOTES. SALARY OF THE BISHOPS. HOW BROTHER AXLEY SUNG HIMSELF INTO THE 

WIDOW'S GOOD GRACES. WILLIAM BURKE'S PAY FOR PREACHING THE GOSPEL. ELISHA 

W. bowman's MISSIONARY LABORS. MR. AXLEY AND JUDGE WHITE. REVS. WILLIAM RAPER 

AND RUSSELL BIGELOW. DR. DURBIN'S ELOQUENCE. HENRY B. BASCOM, THE APOLLO OF 

THE WEST. 

AFTER the defeat of the English forces before Fort Duquesne under the 
ill-fated Braddock, it was desired still to wrest that strong position from 
the grasp of the French, and General Forbes was placed at the head of an expedition 
to effect that object. It was thought fit, however, that he should be preceded by 
some person sufiiciently able and experienced to bring over the minds of the indom- 
itable inhabitants of the wilderness from the cause of the French to that of the En- 
glish. The person selected for this hazardous enterprise was a Moravian missionary, 
Christian Frederick Post. He had long been laboring among the Delawares on 
the Susquehanna, and had acquired a thorough knowledge of the Indian languages, 
and of their habits and customs. He was calm, simple-hearted, intrepid, and accus- 
tomed to all the perils he had now to face. Confiding himself and his cause to the 
hands of his Great Master, he betook himself to the forest, attended by a little com- 
pany of savages. His negotiation was eminently successful ; and though his life was 
threatened again and again, he succeeded in returning safely to the settlements. By 
the wise and skillful efforts of this man, the Indians were completely won over to 
the cause of the English. The fall of Fort Duquesne was the consequence; and the 
arms of the English were crowned with triumph. 

After the close of the war, in 1761, Post returned to his labor among the Indians, 
crossed the Alleghany River, and found himself upon the Muskingum, in the present 
State of Ohio. Here he settled among the Delawares, whose language he knew, and 

338 



LABORS AMONG THE INDIANS ON THE MUSKINGUM. 



339 



among whose brethren he had ah-eady labored for many years. But the tribe in 
which he now found himself — while a part of them were inclined to a peaceable dis- 
position toward the English — were still in part hostile; and he found great difficulties 
in his way. These, however, he serenely met and overcame. Having taken posses- 
sion of a piece of ground allotted him, he proposed to erect a cabin for the double 
purpose of a home and school-house, that he might instruct the savaijes and their 
children. As he began clearing the timber from this ground, some of the Indians 
inquired his intentions. He 
told them that a missionary 
must live, and in order to 
eat, he must raise corn. 
"Na}^" said the Indians, 
"the French priests, with 
whom we are acquainted, to 
whose labors we have been 
accustomed, look fat and 
comely, and they raise no 
corn ; and if you be the serv- 
ant of God, as you say you 
are, and as they say they 
are, your God will feed you 
as he feeds them; you can, 
therefore, have no large tract 
of ground to till. If you 
have a farm, other English 
will come and open farms, 
and then a fort must be built 
to defend you; and then our 
land will be taken away from 
us, and we shall be driven toward the setting sun." The logic of the Indians was 
excellent, and their power sufficient to sustain it; Post had, therefore, to content 
himself with a small patch sufficient for a vegetable garden. Here, then, in company 
with the celebrated Heckewelder, he commenced his labors. 

The war of Pontiac beginning in the following year, the two missionaries, warned 
of their danger hy the simple-hearted children of the forest, returned east to the 




KEY. CHUISTIAN FRKDERICK POST, 



340 A SETTLEMENT Or CHRISTIAN INDIANS 

mountains, and there remained for six years, when, together Avith David Zeisberger, 
the}^ came back to the Muskingum, and laid the foundations of the town of Gnaden- 
hutten, a memorable settlement of the good Moravians and their Indians. This was 
the first establishment of those devout and useful missionaries west of the mountains. 
Many an Indian's heart was won to the cause of truth by their patience, constancy, 
and judicious instructions ; and flourishing out-stations began to grow up all around 
them. During the Revolutionary struggle, the Moravians were successfully laboring 
for the conversion of the Delaware Indians. But the towns they occupied were un- 
fortunately just upon the frontier, between the whites on the one side and the Indians 
on the other. The Wyandots and Shawnees, fiercest of all the hostile tribes of the 
northwest, in making incursions upon the frontiers of Virginia and Pennsylvania, 
must pass through the settlements of these Christian Indians; and the settlers in the 
western part of those States, in attempting to make reprisals for the outrages perpe- 
trated upon them, must also take the same road. They were thus feared and sus- 
pected by both parties; and the British in the neighborhood of Detroit at length 
determined that their settlements should be broken up, and that with or against their 
will they should be removed to the neighborhood of Sandusky. This they Avere loth 
to do, and Avould not voluntarily abandon their peaceful homes and firesides, their 
pleasant maize fields, and the sunny clearings around their comfortable cabins. But 
they Avere forcibly taken aAvay by command of the British officers. Nearly a hun- 
dred of them perished in the Avinter of 1781-2, in the neighborhood of Sanduskj' ; 
and the survivors determined to return to their old settlements, and there gather in 
their corn, Avhich had been allowed to remain out during the Avinter. 

A company of settlers from the Avestern part of Pennsylvania about this time re- 
solved on an incursion into the Indians' territory, for the purpose of punishing the 
Wyandots, Avho had been committing outrages within that State. About ninety 
of these men, under command of one Colonel Williamson, after three daj's' march 
from Fort Pitt, reached the peaceful settlements of our Christian Indians. The con- 
verts Avere abroad in the fields — men, AA'omen and children — gathering intheir corn. See- 
ing the white men approaching, and supposing them to be friendly, they cordially invited 
them to their homes. The Avhites told them that they had come for the purpose of 
conveying them for safe keeping to Fort Pitt. Some of the Indians had been there 
the preceding year, and had been treated Avith remarkable kindness by the command- 
ant. To this proposition of the Avhites they, therefore, readily acceded, and collected 
themselves in the village. All the remaining Indians, Avho Avere scattered in various 



ATROCIOUSLY BUTCHERKD BY TIIK WHITES. 341 

localities within a circuit of four or five miles, were also brought in. When they 
Avere gathered together, they were placed under a guard, and the question was then 
put by the colonel, "Shall these Indians be put to death, or marched to Pittsburg?" 
All in favor of sparing their lives were told to step out two paces in advance of the 
line as the detachment stood. Only sixteen men of the whole ninety took the requi- 
site step. The vote was for death. The intelligence was communicated to the 
humble and simple-minded people, now imprisoned and helpless within their own 
dwellings, and they were told that with the morrow's dawn they must all perish. 
They begged for life, but their prayer was unheeded, save by that car which is ever 
open to the prayers of all. The white men were deaf to their pleadings, and even 
to the wailings of women and the innocent entreaties of little children. And on the 
morrow the Rangers took the people, five and thirty men, four and thirty women, 
five and forty little children, laid them on blocks of wood, and standing over them 
with their axes, clove their skulls; one of the most atrocious and horrible deeds 
ever perpetrated. 

Fearfully enough was this black-hearted murder avenged by Him who watches the 
deeds of his recreant children. Next j^ear these same volunteers fitted out another 
expedition. They marched this time five hundred strong, intending not only to burn 
and lay waste the territory of the hostile Indians, but also to destroy those of the 
inoffensive Christian Indians who yet remained. Most of them, miscreants as they 
were, fell victims either to the tomahawks of the hostile savages, or to the silent 
and unrelenting power of the Avilderness. Col. Crawford, who had been an old 
friend and agent of George Washington, and was unwillingly and unwittingly made 
commandant of this last party, Avas burnt alive Avith peculiarly frightful torments by 
the Wyandots, by Avhom he Avas taken prisoner. 

The Moravian brethren were the first to bring the Avord of life and truth into the 
vast region of the Mississippi Valley; alAva3^s, of course, excepting the old Jesuit 
Fathers and other Catholic missionaries Avho came Avith the French. There are yet, 
in the Avestern country, and have been ever since the time of those atrocious murders, 
descendants of the Christian Indians, the converts of the Moravian brethren; and I 
believe there are yet some Avhite Moravians in the eastern part of Ohio. 

ToAvards the close of the Revolutionary Avar,' and soon after the tide of immigration 
to Kentucky rose higher and flowed Avith a stronger current, men large of build, of 
heaAy braAvn, active intellect, dauntless in courage and energy, and bearing witli 
them their devotion to the doctrines of the Presbyterian Church, in Avhich thev had 



342 



PIONEER CHURCHES. 



been nurtured, and which seemed like the red corpuscles of their Scotch-Irish blood, 
came in ever enlarging bands from their homes in the Blue Ridge and valley of Vir- 
o-inia. The Baptists, who had long been trampled upon and persecuted by the State 
Church in the "Old Dominion," and had waged a manly war against the tyranny of 
parsons and church wardens ; now victorious by the abolition of the establishment, 
were glad to find an "ampler ether, a diviner air." among the canebrakes and woods 




ATTACKKl) BY INDIANS WHILE HOLDING KELIUIOUS SEKVICE. 

of Kentucky, where they could not only be free to worship God according to the 
dictates of their consciences, but also 'from the supercilious airs and opprobrium with 
which the "first families" of the tide-water districts were used to treat them; and 
they often sought their new homes in large numbers embodied as churches and con- 
gregations, and as such formed other settlements. From Maryland came many 
Eoman Catholics, and, loyal to their church, grouped themselves in neighborhoods 



PIONEER CHURCHES. 



343 



where they could enjoy its instruction and offices. And now, after more than a cen- 
tury, many of the descendants of these three classes are still walking in the faith of 
their fathers. 

The Methodist Church was a younger church than these, its first regular preachers 
having landed on this continent in 1770. Fourteen years after their first teacher, 
sent out by Wesley, set foot in America, seven years after the first Baptist minister 
in Kentucky, and three years 
after the first Presbyterian, 
they commenced penetrating 
the wilds of the Far West, 
and their pioneer missionaries, 
James Haw and Benjamin Og- 
den, crossed the Alleghanies 
and entered the boundless 
tracts of Kentucky and Ten- 
nessee. Others rapidly fol- 
lowed them. At first there 
was much antagonism — a sort 
of pugnacious rivalry — or "free 
fifflit" between the various 
denominations in the West. 
They were great controversi- 
alists; and there was an im- 
mense din about Baptism and 
Pedo-baptism ; Free Grace and 
Predestination ; Falling from 
Grace and the Perseverance 
of the Saints, etc. Brethren 
of different denominations of- 
ten held what they called discussions or debates; where a champion of one sect 
challenged one of another. Meeting together before the people, occupying a 
temporary pulpit in a grove, they would treat — and maltreat — the doctrines and 
views of each other, to the eminent edification, and oftentimes to the anmse- 
ment, of the assembled multitude. The people, nevertheless, were somewhat in- 
sensible to the preached Word during the first twenty years of its dispensation. 




THE CIRCUIT-RIDER ON DUTY. 



344 POSITION OF THE PIONEER CHURCHES ON THE SLAVERY QUESTION. 

They were absorbed hy Indian wars, and by the pressing demands upon their 
labor, necessary to maintain physical existence in a new country. Soon afterward 
came in French infidelity with French politics; and deism and atheism were 
openly avowed on every hand. Many of the principal citizens were not afraid or 
ashamed to own themselves infidels. Thus the field which these pioneer preach- 
ers were called to till was a hard and stony one, and they had much difliculty 
in pushing their way. 

As the time drew near for Kentucky to be admitted into the Union as the firsst 
State west of the mountains (1792), the question of slavery became one of absorb- 
ing and exciting interest to the people of the infant commonwealth, and it must be 
stated that to a man the pioneer preachers — Baptist, Presbyterian, and Methodist — 
opposed its recognition by the Constitution. As early as the launching of the 
Federal Government, the Baptists in Virginia, at a meeting of their General Commit- 
tee at Eichmond, in 1789, resolved "that slavery is a violent deprivation of the rights 
of nature, and inconsistent with a Republican government, and we, therefore, recom- 
mend it to our brethren to make use of every legal measure to extirpate this horrid 
evil from the laud, and pray Almighty God that our honorable Legislature may have 
it in their power to proclaim the great jubilee consistent with the principles of good 
policy." Many of their brethren in Kentucky were equally firm and outspoken. 

The father of Presbyterianism in the West, the Rev. Daniel Rice, who had removed 
from Virginia in 1783, and in the following year opened the first grammar-school in 
Kentucky at his house in Lincoln County, from the first preached, wrote, and spoke 
with unflinching courage against the evils of slaver}^ and about the time of the as- 
sembling of the Constitutional Convention in 1792 (of which by the wa}^ he was a 
member), published a pamphlet with this title, "Slavery Inconsistent with Justice 
and Good Policy." An extract will illustrate the temper and ability of the author. 
"The slavery of the negroes began in iniquity, a curse has attended it, and a curse 
will follow it. National vices will be punished with national calamities. Let us avoid 
these vices, that we may avoid the punishment which they deserve, and endeavor so 
to act as to secure the approbation and smiles of heaven. Holding men in slavery 
is the national vice of Virginia, and while a part of that State we were partakers of 
the guilt. As a separate State, we are just now come to the birth, and it depends 
upon our free choice whether we shall be born in this sin or innocent of it. We 
now have it in our power to adopt it as our national crime or to bear a national tes- 
timony against it. I hope the latter will be our choice; that we shall wash our hands 



THE GREAT REVIVAL OF 1800. 34.^ 

of this guilt, and not leave it in the power of a future Legislature evermore to stain 
our reputation or our conscience with it." Mr. Asbury and his preachers were not 
a whit behind their Baptist and Presbyterian brethren in opposing the introduction of 
slavery to the virgin soil of the West, but at all times and in all places bore their 
witness against it. The Presbyterians and Methodists found it necessary, towards 
the close of the last century, to join their forces, and unite for the furtherance of 
the common cause. This was in the southern part of the State of Kentucky. They 
held "union sacramental meetings," where the two denominations worked together, 
kindly and efficient yoke-fellows. Under these eiforts the people at length became 
much excited on the subject of religion, and there broke out, in the spring of 1800, 
the most extraordinary revival that ever happened on this continent, or in the history 
of the church since the day of Pentecost. It was called the Cumberland, or the 
Great Kevival. It broke out at one of these sacramental occasions, when the Meth- 
odist and Presbyterian ministers were holding a two or three days' meeting, for the 
purpose of stimulating the attention of the people to the all-important subject of 
personal holiness. At this, there were strange manifestations. The people were 
seized as by a sort of superhuman power ; their physical energy was lost ; their senses 
refused to perform their functions ; all forms of manifesting consciousness were for 
the time annulled. Strong men fell to the ground, utterly helpless ; women were 
taken with a strange spasmodic motion, so that they were heaved to and fro, some- 
times falling at length upon the floor, their hair disheveled, and throwing their heads 
about with a quickness and violence so great as to make their hair crack against the 
floor as if it were a teamster's whip. Then they would rise up again, fall on their 
faces, and the same violent movements and cracking noise w^ould ensue. 

The meetings went on, and at length there was a grand convocation at Cane Eidge, 
Kentucky, where the leading Presbyterian minister was Barton W. Stone, afterward 
renowned in the ecclesiastical annals of the West as the father and head of the 
*'New Lights," who became subsequently followers of Alexander Campbell, and a 
section of that body now called "Christian." Stone was then the Presbyterian min- 
ister of Concord and Cane Ridge meeting-house. He appointed a sacramental meet- 
ing. The report of these peculiar doings spread so rapidly through Tennessee, 
Kentucky, Virginia, and what are now Ohio and Indiana, that people came sixty, 
seventy, a hundred, even three hundred miles, to attend this meeting, and it is said 
that on one night there were not less than thirty thousand people present at the Cane 
Ridge ground. There were eight or ten preachers of different denominations, stand- 



346 



THE CAMP-MEETING. 



ing on the stumps of trees, fallen logs, or temporar}^ pulpits, all holding forth in 
their loudest tones, and that was a very loud tone, for the lungs of the backwoods 
preachers were of the strongest. They roared like lions. The celebrated William 
Burke was one of the principal preachers on that occasion. He gave out a hymn, 
and by the time he had mentioned his text, there were some ten thousand j^ersons 
about him. Although his voice, when he began, was stentorian, after three quarters 
of an hour it could scarce be heard. 

It was said that the ten thousand standing about the preacher were, from time to 
time, shaken as a forest by a tornado, and five hundred were at once prostrated to 




A NIGHT IN THE GREAT RELIGIOUS REVIVAL IN KENTUCKY IN IfeOO. 

the earth, like the trees in a "windfall," by some invisible agency. Some were 
agitated by violent whirling motions, some by fearful contortions; and then came 
the "jerks." Scoffers, doubters, deniers, men who came to ridicule and sneer at the 
supernatural agency, were taken up in the air, whirled over upon their heads, coiled 
up so as to spin about like cart-wheels, catching hold, meantime, of saplings, en- 
deavoring to clasp the trunks of trees in their arms, but still going headlong and 
helplessly on. These motions were called the "jerks," a name which was current in 
the West for many a year after. Here is one example: A man rode into what was 



STRANGE MANIFESTATIONS "THE JERKS." 347 

called the "Circle," where live hundred people were standing in a ring, and others 
inside, on their knees, crying, shouting, praying. The rider charged the ring at 
full speed, yelling like a demon, cursing and blaspheming. On reaching the edge, 
he fell from his horse, seemingly lifeless, and lay in an apparently unconscious con- 
dition for thirty hours, his pulse at about fort}^ or less. When he opened his eyes 
and recovered his senses, he said he had retained consciousness all the time, that he 
knew what had been passing, but was seized with some agency which he could not 
define. Many readers will welcome this description of the jerks given by the Rev. 
Dr. John P. Durbin : 

"At this meeting began the inexplicable exercise called Jerks. It was so invol- 
untaiy, and in some cases so violent, that two or three strong men could not confine 
one female, and if they did attempt to hold her, it always caused a great soreness to 
her. In some instances the arms would be violently thrust forward and backward 
alternately, that is, one arm forward, the other at the same time backward. Some- 
times, and most generally, I believe, the head would be violently and quickly thrown 
backward and forward, moving on the shoulders (the shoulders also moving in the 
same direction slightly) with such velocity that the hair of females would come down, 
and when loose crack like a whip, and with such force as to draw the blood from the 
face of the bystander if it cut it. The strongest and most wicked men were equallv 
subject to it with the weakest and most superstitious females. It would generally 
come on suddenly, frequently when the person was not in any religious assembly, 
and sometimes Avhen alone, engaged in ordinary employment. Some would be silent 
and appear sullen, some resigned, and some mortified; some would be enraged and 
swear prof anelj' ; all dreaded the exercise. It is said that it first seized a Presby- 
terian minister while jd reaching. It was not confined to any denomination. There 
was certainly no advantage in a religious point of view in being the subject of it, nor 
was it peculiar to the religious. Physicians examined the subjects both during the 
paroxysms and afterward, and in some instances gave medicine, but without effect. 
I have never been the subject of it, but I have witnessed it, and asked others who 
had been the subjects in regard to their feelings and views, but could never obtain 
any satisfaction. All declared it involuntary and inexplicable and painful. Some 
have been known to be jerked to the ground in an instant, others have laid hold of 
trees, and have been jerked around them until they were literally belabored and the 
tree partially lashed. These are the facts, the explanation I leave to others." 



348 



RESULTS OF THE MEETINGS. 



From Barton W. Stone. 

"The bodily agitations or exercises attending the excitement in the beginning of 
this century were various, and called by various names, as the falling exercise, the 
lauiihinir and sinainff exercise, and so on. Though so awful to behold, I do not re- 
member that any one of the thousands I have seen thus affected ever sustained any 
injury in body. This was as strange as the exercise itself." 

These meetings taking place in open w^oods, and attracting such immense 
nuiltitudes, no provision could possibly be made for them in the neighborhood. 

People came in car- 
riages, wagons, ox- 
carts, on horses, and, 
themselves accustomed 
to pioneer habits and 
lives, brought their own 
food, commonly jerked 
meat and corn dodgers, 
and pitched their tents 
upon the ground. 

Such was the origin 
of camp-meetings. The 
first camp-meeting ever 
seen, after the Feast of 
Tabernacles, was that 
upon Cane Eidge, where 
the people came w'ith- 
out the design of en- 
camping, but where 
"" necessity required it. 
These meetings pro- 
ceeded for 3^ears, and great was the overthrow which resulted to all forms of 
infidelity. Of course, there ensued also great divisions and heart-burnings 
among the different denominations. The Baptist, as well as the Presbyterian 
and Methodist churches, largely participated; and all were split up more or less 
after the abatement of the first great excitement. A large number of the con- 
verts became Shakers. One man, who had gathered about him Avhat he called 
the twelve apostles, set off in search of the Holy Land, and died miserably of 




GOIN(; TO CnURCH. 



THE circuit-rider's SCANTY SUPPORT, 349 

starvation on an island in the Mississippi. And various were the other fancies. 
One said he held converse with angels and spirits, not after the modern use of 
rapping on tables, but orally and immediately; and that physical food was not 
needed to sustain his life. He also starved to death; and then his church broke 
up. There were various opinions as to the fruits of these meetings; but I have 
been told by old men, who have watched the current of affairs through all these 
years, that the good results were not to be calculated. 

We now come to a more particular consideration of some of the men concerned in 
this movement. The ministry of the Methodist church of the wilderness assumed 
the position and responsibility of their calling, under the confident belief that each 
man of them was specially called and sent forth by the Holy Spirit of jDeace and 
power as an ambassador for Christ. The church decided upon the gifts and oraces 
of the man. If its opinion coincided with his, he was set apart for the sacred office 
of the ministry, and sent forth. At the time of which we speak, his office was no 
sinecure. His field of labor was the world. The limit of the salary which the dis- 
cipline of the church allowed him to receive was sixty-four dollars, some time later 
raised to eighty, and then to a hundred per annum, and that was to include all pres- 
ents of yarn stockings, woolen vests, and homespun coats, together with wedding- 
fees. If the amount exceeded this, the surplus must be handed over to the church 
authorities for the use of poorer brethren. He must provide horse, saddle, wearino- 
apparel, and books. West of the mountains, sixty-four dollars was a sum liardl}^ to 
be expected, either in coin of the realm, or in presents of any description. Nothing 
more was allowed a man with a wife than without one, for it was understood amona: 
the ministers of the old church that a preacher had no business with a wife, and that 
he was a deal better without. Mr. Wesley had such an experience of his own that 
he discouraged mariying among the brethren; and Francis Asbury, who was the 
master-spirit of Methodism on this continent, was so absorbed in his work that he 
discountenanced matrimony. He said, nevertheless, that it was the business of every 
man to support a woman. He, therefore, gave one-half of his income to the support 
of his mother, and afterwards of a distant cousin in England. When one of the 
young brethren was so unfortunate or so absurd as to link himself in matrimonial 
bonds, it was understood that he had better "locate," in the language of the church, 
still retaining authority to preach, but pursuing some other calling as a means of sup- 
port, deriving none from the church. M'Kendree, who was Mr. Asbury's associate 
and successor in the episcopate, also remained a bachelor. On hearing that a num- 



350 HIS CHARACTER, GEXIUS, AND 

ber of his preachers had married, Mr. Asbury exclaimed, "I fear that the women 
and the devil will get all my preachers." At another time he said, "I have never 
been able to find a woman with grace enough in her heart to be willing for her hus- 
band to be away from home fifty-one weeks out of the fifty-two, as is the case with 
me; and I don't think she Avould be worth having if one such could be found, so I 
shall remain single." 

There was small encouragement, indeed, in the way of pecuniary support, to which 
these men could look forward. They came to the wilderness to face perils, want, 
weariness, unkindness, cold, and hunger; to hear the crack of the Indian rifle from 
some neighboring thicket, to feel the ball cutting the air as it whizzed past their ear, 
and perhaps to fall by the unerring shot of some redskin. And if their lives were 
spared by the guardianship of a good Providence, the bare earth in winter and sum- 
mer was three-fourths of the time their bed, a saddle their pillow, and the sky their 
coverlet. They were thorough students of the Bible, which they usually read upon 
their knees. When the snow was on the ground, the traveling preacher, awaking 
from his night's slumber as the first rays of daylight were breaking through the east- 
ern sky, giving just enough light to see the page, would never saddle and mount till 
he had performed his private devotions, kneeling in the midst of the snow and ice 
where he had been sleeping, and had studied at least three or four chapters of his 
constant companion and manual. They studied the hymn-book nearly as devoutly 
and constantly as the Bible ; and with these two, they had an arsenal from which 
they could bring forth weapons adapted to every emergency. There was another 
supplement to their Scriptures. This third volume, one which they profoundly 
studied, was the ever open book of human nature. They were well acquainted with 
men ; they read their eyes, their countenances, their hearts, their consciences. 

From this may be understood what was their style of preaching. They were ear- 
nest and forcible. They felt that great issues were at stake, standing, as they often 
did, before a congregation of three or four thousand. They felt that all this great 
company of men and women in a short time would be dead ; that perhaps this was 
the last time they should ever have the opportunity of speaking to them. The weight 
of souls was on them ; they felt that the blood of these people might rest on their 
own souls, unless their full and immediate duty was done ; therefore, most earnestl}^, 
and even passionately, to warn, to counsel, to entreat, to admonish, to reprove, to 
win them by the love of Christ to be reconciled to God — this was the burden of their 
preaching. They were men of quick, intense, and profound emotions, of lively fanc}^. 



METHODS OF WORK. 351 

and vivid imaginations ; and before their inward eye was ever clearly pictured their 
expected final haven of repose and joy, the antithesis to this their present painful 
life of weariness and labor. And, upon the other hand, the unfathomable abyss of 
perdition was open to them. 

They were thorough students of other books than the Bible, when they had oppor- 
tunity ; and these were, generally, of an imaginative description. Young and Milton 
were intimate companions of these old waj^farers. Miltonic descriptions of perdi- 
tion abounded in their preaching; and the Judgment, with all the solemn array of 
the last Assize, was vividly delineated before them. And while to our sober, cold 
and calculating criticism it might seem that their descriptions of the good and bad 
world savored too much of a topographical character — as if they had been traveling 
through certain countries, and were now giving a vivid detail of all they had expe- 
rienced — it did not to the people who listened to them. They were stern in their 
denunciation of what they did not believe; and rose-water sentimentalism, agreeable 
metaphysical disquisitions, a profoundly elaborate exegesis upon particular passages 
of Scripture, would have gone but little way in influencing those congregations of 
backwoodsmen. Their earnest life, filled with necessities and arduous struggles to 
supply them, must have appropriate religious food ; and these simple-hearted, firmly- 
believing preachers were just the men to give it to them. 

There was an immense deal of force and stamina in their method. They spoRe 
loud and with their whole body; their feet and hands were put in requisition as well 
as their tongues and eyes. It was a very demonstrative style of preaching. They 
had to make their sermons as they were traveling along the way — and a hard and 
rugged way it was. 

Mr. Asbury was once asked by an eminent divine belonging to another branch of 
the church, "How is it that you take men from the tail of the plough, the black- 
smith's shop, the carpenter's bench, and without sending them to college or divinity 
schools, set them to preach at once, and in a few years they become able ministers 
of the New Testament, equal, if not superior, to our men trained in collegiate and 
theological halls ?" The venerable bishop answered, "We tell one another all we 
know, and then use it at once. A penny used is better than an idle dollar. You study 
books, we study men, the Bible, the hymn-book and Mr. Wesley's sermons, and are 
instant in season and out of season. I once picked up a fiddler, and he became a 
saint and a great preacher." 



352 BISHOP asbury's episcopal journeys. 

The bond between the older and the younger men was a very strong one, and the 
habit of imitation had full play. The Rev. Dr. Winans, the apostle of Missis- 
sippi, told me that when a young man he admired the presiding elder, who was some- 
what deaf, and while preaching held his hand behind his ear to hear himself talk ; 
the young man fell into the habit, though his hearing was perfect, and a long time 
Avas needed to break it. Another of the seniors whom he admired was accustomed 
to work at the left button of his coat while preaching, and Winans fell into the same 
custom, twisting off a great many buttons, to the great disgust of his wife, who 
finally broke him of both habits. 

The almost military organization which Mr. Wesley impressed on Methodism, gave 
it unequalcd power in the new country. The class-meeting and its leader, the 
steward, the exhorters and local preachers, the circuit preachers and presiding elders, 
and over all, the superintendents or bishops, formed an army in which the drill and 
discipline were thorough and complete, while the spirit animating the whole was 
one of martial enthusiasm. Rank and file alike looked upon themselves as the soldiers 
of the Lamb. They looked upon human life as a conflict in which they warred 
against principalities and powers, and spiritual wickedness in high places. Their 
modes of thought and forms of speech were full of militant images, while their 
hymns and songs throbbed with the spirit of battle and of victory, and the banner 
of the cross was the watchword of old and young, men and women. 

Bishop Asbury was one of the most important personages, if not the most im- 
portant, in the ecclesiastical history of this continent. He traveled for fifty years, 
on horseback, from Maine to Georgia, and from Massachusetts to the Far West, as 
population extended ; journeying in that time, as was computed, about three hundred 
thousand miles. He had the care of all the churches; was instant in season and out 
of season ; laboring indefatigably with the young men to inspire them; winning back 
the lost and bringing amorphous elements into harmony, in a church which, when he 
began with it, in 1771, numbered probably not fifty members; and which, when he 
was an old man — he died in 1816 — numbered, white and black, from Maine to 
Louisiana, a quarter of a million. 

Here is a specimen of the episcopal journeys made by Mr. Asbury. It was early 
in the spring of 1793, and he was on his way from the head of the Holston River, in 
Southwest Virginia, passed the Clinch, and through Powell's Valley, over Cumberland 
Mountain, and through the gap and the wild district called the Wilderness, where 
there was not a house for a hundred and thirty miles, the whole region infested with 



AN ESCORT WITH "'CARNAL WEAPONS. 



35;^ 



Savages on the war-path, and thirsting for blood. A number of his preachers and 
hiymen, sixteen in all, acted as escort for the venerable man, and all were well armed 
except himself, — he never carried carnal weapons. Every man of the party, in ad- 
dition to personal baggage, had to carry a three days' supply of food for himself and 
horse. There was no road, at best only a path, and, for the most part, only a "blind 
trace." They marched in military fashion, single tile, scouts in front and rear; 
were in the saddle, or stumbling along on foot leading their horses in the darkness, 
forty hours with scarce a pause, followed a long time by the red-skins. As the first 




PRIMITIVE METHODS— PIIEACHING IN A TOBACCO BARN. 



night fell, one of the party declared that his horse could go no further, and a council 
was called to consider what should be done. The Bishop listened till all had spoken, 
and then sententiously observed, "Kill man, kill horse; kill horse first;" and the line 
of march was again taken up, and the "wilderness road," as it was called, was passed 
in safety, although a considerable party a day or two ahead of them had been at> 
tacked and massacred by the Indians, who were still lying in wait for other prey. 
Many a hard and perilous ride like this he had, "that he might take heed to the flock 
23 



354 ST. PAULAS EXPERIENCES REPEATED. 

over which the Holy Ghost had made him an overseer to feed the church of God, 
which he hath pm'chased with His own blood." 

With almost equal truth, Bishop Asburj could use the language of St. Paul : 

"In journejings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine 
own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilder- 
ness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren; in weariness and painful- 
ness, in watchings often, in cold and nakedness. Besides those things that are with- 
out, that which coineth upon me daily, the care of all the churches. Who is weak, 
and I am not weak? Who is offended, and I burn not? If I must needs glory, I 
will glory of the things which concern mine infirmities." 

The salary of the bishops was eighty dollars a year, and their annual journeys on 
horseback took them from the St. Lawrence to the Savannah and Tallapoosa, from 
the shores of the Atlantic, over the mountains, through canebrake, forest, prairie, 
and swamp, to the banks of the Mississippi and Missouri; their saddlebags contain- 
ino- wardrobe and library, their wearing apparel copperas or madder-dyed homespun, 
their fare often parched corn and jerked venison or baked 'possum; their bed some- 
times the bare earth or a hollow log in winter as well as summer. 

If such were the life and labors of the bishops, what had the rank and file to ex- 
pect but unremunerated toil and penury, hardships, suffering, and probably an early 
death? And to what end were this heroic courage and fortitude, if not that they 
might preach Christ, "warning every man and teaching every man, in all wisdom, 
that they might present every man perfect in Christ Jesus." "Whereunto they 
also labored, striving according to his working, which wrought in them mightily." 

Bishop Asbury was surrounded by men nuich akin to him; for he seemed to infuse 
his spirit into all with whom he came in contact. Two of the men whom he raised 
up — James Axley and James Craven — were both renowned in their day. Craven, 
when once preaching in the heart of Virginia, said: "Now, here are a great many 
professors of religion; you are sleek, fat, good-looking, yet there is something the 
matter, you are not the thing you ought to be. You have seen wheat" — most of his 
hearers were farmers — "which was plump, round, and good-looking to the eye; but 
when you weighed it, you found it only came to f ortj'-five or forty-eight pounds to the 
bushel. It should be from sixty to sixty-three pounds. Take a grain between j^our 
thumb and finger, squeeze it, and out pops a weevil. Now, you good-looking Christ- 
ian people only weigh, like the wheat, forty or forty-eight pounds to the bushel. 



iroOD AND SHELTER FOR A SON(J. S55 

What is the matter? When you are squeezed between the thumb of the law and the 
finger of the Gospel, out pops the negro and the whiskey b;)ttle." Old Father 
Axle}^, preaching on one occasion, cried out, "Ah, yes; you sisters here at church 
look as sweet and smiling as if you were angels; and one of you says to me, 'Come 
to dinner,' and I go; and when I go, you saj^ 'Sit down, Brother Axley, while I go 
about the dinner;' and you go to the kitchen, and I hear something crying out, 
'Don't Missus,' and I hear the sound of slaps, and the poor girl screaming, and the 
sister whaling and trouncing Sally in the kitchen as hard as she can. And when she 
has performed this office, she comes back looking as sweet and smiling as a summer's 
day, as if she had been saying her prayers. That is what you call Christianity, is 
it?" The style was adapted to the people. They understood this, where they could 
not have understood profound disquisitions respecting original sin. Axley was sent, in 
1806 and 1807, into the Attakapas country, Louisiana, to travel as a missionarv. He 
was about five feet, eight inches in height, strong and sinewy, accustomed to all 
manner of exposure and suffering. Among the rude border population, of whom a 
large part were French Catholics, he had not much to expect in the way of comfort. 
He had no money, was very hungry, and indeed reduced nearly to stai*vation, when 
became riding up to a plantation. They knew him by his coat to be a preacher, 
and they wanted none such in their houses. Axley entered, and asked if he could 
have supper and a night's lodging. "No." 

"Can I come in and warm myself? I am nearly frozen." 

The only persons about were a widow, and some children and black people. 

"Yes," the woman answered, "but that's all," and he sat him down by the fire. 

Here was a prospect of sleeping another night out in the cold. He thought of the 
lonely journey and the perils that compassed it. Then his faith lifted him to a 
better, brighter world, its rest and reward for the wayfarer ; and he thought of the 
good Father, and of the angels that are sent to succor and to minister, and his heart 
presently filled with overflowing gladness; and he struck up a hymn, for he was a 

great singer : 

"Peace, troubled soul, thou needst uot fear. 

Tliy great provider still is near; 
Who fed thee last will feed thee still, 
Be calm, and sink into his will/' 

He went on with his song, and, looking about him, saw that he was gaining ground. 
He sang three hymns, and by that time the woman and all the children and negroes 
were crowding about him, with tears in their eyes. 



356 



BROTHKU AXLKV AT BALTIMORE. 



As he concluded, the old lady shouted, "Pete, put up the gentleman's horse. Girls, 
have a good supper for the preacher." And thus he was fed and lodged for a song. 
Axley came to Baltimore to attend a General Conference in 1820. There was a 
dispute about a technical question — whether presiding elders should be elected by the 
preachers or appointed by the bishops ; and there had been warm, not to say hot, dis- 
cussion about it. Brother Axley was silent. At the end of the session, the bishop 

called upon him to offer a 
prayer. He knelt and be- 
gan thus: "Now, O Lord, 
Thou knowest what a time 
we have had discussing, ar- 
guing, about this elder ques- 
tion ; and Thou knowest 
what our feelings are; we 
do not care what becomes of 
the Ark — it is only who shall 
drive the oxen." 

In December, 1855, there 
(lied, in the city of Cincin- 
nati, a man nearly ninety 
years of age, whose name 
was William Burke. He had 
been almost in the van of pi- 
oneer ministers. He entered 
the West when the contest 
with the Indians was at its 
hottest, traveled through 
what are now Western Vir- 
ginia, North Carolina, Ken- 
tuck}^ Tennessee, and Ohio. There was scarcely a settlement in all this vast region 
where he had not preached, or a cabin where he had not prayed with the inmates. So 
poor was he oftentimes, that his clothes, as he himself said, "were patch upon patch, 
and patch above patch, until the patches themselves were worn out ; " and bare-kneed, 
and bare-elbowed, without a cent in his pocket, or a friend to give him a new garment, 
he must needs go forward in the service of his master. After three and twenty 




KEY. JAMES AXLEV 



REV. ELISIIA BOWMAN AT NEW ORLEANS. 357 

years of unremitting toil, having experienced hardships and suffering beyond descrip- 
tion, he lost his voice, and was obliged to abandon his vocation. Selling out his stock 
in trade, saddle, bridle, horse, and saddlebags, he found himself in possession of two 
hundred and thirteen dollars, as the total receipts of his twenty-three years' labor. 

Elisha W. Bowman, a bold, godly preacher, was another of those men in labors 
truly apostolic. Soon after the purchase of Louisiana, the Western Conference took 
into consideration the religious condition of its inhabitants, which was lamentable 
indeed, and Mr. Bowman volunteered, and was sent l)y Bishop Asbury to carry the 
Gospel to them. I have a letter written by him detailing his labors and adventures 
in the work. He rode on horseback to New Orleans, which he found filthy as a pig- 
sty, and almost in as bad a condition morally. "The Lord's day is a day of gen- 
eral rant," he wrote; "Public balls are held, merchandise of every kind is carried 
on; public sales; wagons running, and drums beating." He went to the governor 
and frankly told him his errand, who, thereupon, promised him the city hall to 
preach in. His appointment was published for the next Lord's day. Going to the 
capitol on the Sabbath, he found its doors locked against him. This happened 
again the next Sunday; on going to the governor and mayor he got no satisfaction; 
as he passed along the street that evening he heard the people pouring out heavy 
curses on the Methodists, and saying, "He is a Methodist, lock him out;" and they 
told him plainly he was not to have the privilege of the house. "One of the officers 
told me that the Methodists were a dangerous people, and ought to be discouraged. 
I asked him what harm they had done ; he said they were seeking an establishment. 
I told him it was an unjust censure; he got into a passion, and I left him. The next 
Sunday I preached to a few straggling people in the open street." There were few 
Americans in the city then, and most of them were of the dregs of the population, 
but by and by he heard of a settlement of American people two hundred miles tc 
the west and northwest, and determined to go in quest of them. The way thither 
lay across lakes and the Opelousas country, and must be traversed by boat; but from 
this point we will allow him to tell his own story : 

"I traveled fifty miles up the Mississippi River, and crossed to a river that forces 
itself out of the Mississippi, and runs into the sea in a southwest direction; down 
which river I traveled fifty miles, and then turned a western course fifteen miles, 
through a cypress swamp, to the lake. There the mosquitoes like to have eaten me 
and my horse. 

"There are a few Spaniards living on this lake. I got two large canoes of them, 
built a platform on them, on which I put my horse. I hired two of the Span- 



358 



"LIKE PEOPLE, LIKE PRIEST. 



iardsto go with me across the lakes, for which I paid them thirteen dollars and a half, 
and through the mercy of God I had a safe passage through four lakes and a large 
bay. There I saw an old Spaniard boiling salt on an island. I landed a little south 
of the mouth of the Eiver O'Tash. A few Frenchmen are living at the mouth of this 
river, and a few American families are scattered along this bay and river, who came 
here in the time of the American war, but not for any good deeds they had done. I 
have now two dollars left, but God is as able to feed me for two years on two dol- 
lars, as he was to feed Elijah at the brook, or five thousand with a few loaves and 

fishes. I traveled up the west 
side of the Eiver O'Tash eighty 
miles. The land is dry imme- 
diately on the banks, and about 
twenty miles wide,with cypress 
extending to the sea-marsh. On 
the east side of it are lakes 
and swamps. Eighty miles up, 
there is a large French settle- 




KEV. ELISHA W. BOWMAN. 



ment. A few families of Amer- 
icans are scattered among them, 
but I could not find two fam- 
ilies together. 

"I then passed through a 
small tribe of Indians, and then 
crossed the Vermilion River, 
which runs into the sea in a 
southwest direction. There I 
had a fine sea-breeze. The 
next day I reached theOpelousascouutiy, and thenextlreached the Catholic church, 
I was surprised to see a pair of race paths (courses) at the church door. There I 
found a few Americans, who were swearing with almost every breath ; and when I 
reproved them, they told me that the priest swore as hard as they did. They said he 
would play cards and dance with them every Sunday evening after mass. And, strange 
to tell, he keeps a race horse; in a word, practices every abomination. I told them 
plainly, if they did not quit swearing they and their priest would go to hell together. 
"About seventy miles from this place, I found a settlement of American people 
who came to this country about the time of the American war. They know \or\ 



"IN PERILS OF WATE«RS." 359 

little more about the nature of salvation than the untaught Indians; some of them, 
after I had preached, asked me what I meant by the fall of man, and when it was 
that he fell. Thus they are perishing for lack of knowledge, and are surely in a 
pitiable condition. I have to learn them to sing, and in fact do everything that is 
like worshipping God. I find it also very difficult to get them to attend meetings, 
for if they come once, they think they have done me a very great favor. 

"About thirty miles from here, I found another small settlement of English people, 
who were in as great a state of ignorance as the above ; but I get as many of them 
together as I can, and preach Jesus Christ to them. O, my God, have mercy on the 
souls of these people ! 

"It is now the 29th day of January, and, from the great quantity of rain that has 
fallen, and the low situation of this country, it is almost everywhere in flood of water. 
Every day that I travel, I have to swim through creeks or swamps, and I am wet 
from head to foot, and some days from morning till night I am dripping with water. 
I tie all my plunder fast on my horse, and take him by the bridle and swim some- 
times a hundred yards, and sometimes farther. My horse's legs are now skinned 
and rough to his hock-joints. But this is nothing. 

"About eighty miles from here, I am informed, there is a considerable settle- 
ment of American people ; but I cannot get to them at this time, as the swamps 
are swimming for miles; but as soon as the waters fall, I intend to visit them. 
I have great diflSculties in this country, as there are no laws to suppress vice of 
any kind, so that the Sabbath is spent in frolicking and gambling. 

"I have now given you a faint idea of my travels, the country and the people. 
Let me now tell you how it is with my soul. What I have suffered in body and 
mind my pen is not able to communicate. But this I can say: while my body 
is wet with water and chilled with cold, my soul is filled with heavenly fire, and 
longs to be with Christ. And while these periods drop from my pen, my soul is 
ready to leave this earthly home, and fly to endless rest. Glory to God and the 
Lamb! I can say that I never enjoyed such a power and heaven of love as I 
have done for a few days past. I have not a wish but that the will of God 
shall be done in me, through me, and by me. And I can now say with St. 
Paul, that I count not my life dear unto myself, so that I may save some. I 
feel my soul all alive to God, and filled with love to all the human family. I 
am now one thousand miles from you, and know not that I shall ever see you 
again, but I hope to meet you one day on the banks of Canaan, in the land of rest. 



360 *'NO FOOT OF LAND DO I POSSESS." 

"I am 3'our suffering brother in the bonds of a peaceful Gospel. 
Opelousas, January 29th, 1806. Elisha Bowman. 

"P. S. — Pardon my scrawl, as I have to write on my knee, and a man is waiting 
at my elbow for these lines. Pray for me." 

How could such a man fail? Whether the two dollars held out or not, so it Avas 
he stayed two years, and reported to Conference two circuits formed. 

A wayfarer, who for many years had preached in the northwestern territory, after 
its division into States, found his field of labor in Indiana. Himself and family had 
subsisted upon the scanty pittance allowed them — barely enough to keep soul and 
body together. They had borne their poverty and toil without a murmur. The 
preacher was much beloved, tall, slender, graceful, with a winning countenance, a 
kindly eye where flashed the fire of genius, a voice silvery and poAverful in speech, 
sweet as a wind-harp in song. As the country began to settle, a large landholder 
much attached to the preacher, knowing his poverty, wished to make an expression 
of his grateful regard and affection. Wherefore he presented him wnth a title-deed 
of three hundred and twenty acres — a half section of land The man of God went 
his way with a glad and humble heart, that there w\as provision made for his own 
advancing age and the wants of his rising family. In three months he returned. 
Alighting at the gate, he removed his saddle-bagr?, and began to fumble in their ca- 
pacious J30ckets. As he reached the door, where stood his friendly host to welcome 
him, he drew out the parchment, saying : 

"Here, sir; I want to give you back your title-deed." "What's the matter?" 

said his friend, surprised; "any flaw in it?" "No." "Isn't it good land?" "Good 

as any in the State." "Sickly situation?" "Healthy as any other." "Do you 

think I repent my gift?" "I havn't the slightest reason to doubt your generosity." 

"Why don't you keep it, then?" "Well, sir," said the preacher, "you know I am 

very fond of singing, and there's one hymn in my book, the singing of which s one 

of the greatest comforts of my life. I have not been able to sing it with my whole 

heart since I was here. A part of it runs in this way : 

'No foot of land do I possess, 
No cottage in the wilderness; 
A poor wayfaring man, 
I lodge awhile in tents below, 
And gladly wander to and fro, 
Till I my Canaan gain; 
There is my house and portion fair, 
My treasure and my heart are there, 
And Jny abiding home,' 



A SPECIMEN OF PULPIT MANNERS. 361 

*'Take your title-deed," he added, "I had rather sing that hymn with a clear 
conscience than own America." 

He went his way and sang his song, confiding his family to the care of Him who 
had promised, "I will be a husband to the widow, and a father to the fatherless." 
They never lacked, nor suffered hunger. The preacher went to his home on the other 
side of the river long ago. "I have been young," said the Psalmist, "and now I 
am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread." 

Take the following as a specimen of their pulpit manners. It was a discourse de- 
livered by the Eev. James Axlej^, before mentioned, related by Hugh L. White, for 
many years a distinguished judge in the State of Tennessee, and afterwards a con- 
spicuous member of the Federal Senate. 

It was noised throughout the town of Jonesborough that Mr. Axley would hold 
forth on the morning of the ensuing Sabbath. The famous divine was a great favor- 
ite — with none more than with Judge White. At the appointed hour, the judge, in 
company with a large congregation, was in attendance at the house of prayer. All 
were hushed in expectation. Mr. Axley entered, but with him a clerical brother who 
was put up to preach. The congregation was composed of a border population ; they 
were disappointed; this was not the man they had come to hear, consequently there 
was a good deal of misbehavior. The discourse was ended and Mr. Axley arose. 
It is a custom in the new country, when two or more preachers are present, for each 
of them to have something to say. The people opine that it is a great waste of 
time to come a long distance and be put off with a short service. I have gone 
into the church at 8 o'clock in the morning, and have not come out again until 5 
o'clock in the afternoon. Short administrations are the growth of thicker settlements. 

Mr. Axley stood silently surveying the congregation, until every eye was riveted 
upon him. He then began : 

"It may be a very painful duty, but it is a very solemn one, for a minister of the 
Gospel to reprove vice, misconduct, and sin, whenever and wherever he sees it. But 
especially is it his duty on Sunday and at church. That is a duty I am now about to 
attend to. 

"And now," continued the reverend speaker, pointing with his long finger in the 
direction indicated, "that man sitting out yonder behind the door, who got up and 
went out while the brother was preaching, stayed out as long as he wanted to, got 
his boots full of mud, came back and stamped the mud off at the door, making all 
the noise he could on purpose to distract the attention of the congregation, and then 



362 THE HOTTEST SHOT STRIKES THE JUDGE. 

took his seat ; that man thinks I mean him. It doesn't look as if he had been raised 
in the white settlements, does it, to behave that way at meeting? Now, my friend, 
I'd advise you to learn better manners before you come to church next time. But I 
don't mean him. 

"And, now," again pointing at his mark, "that little girl sitting there, about half 
way of the house — I should judge her to be about sixteen years old — that's her with 
the artificial flowers on the outside of her bonnet and the inside of her bonnet ; she 
has a breastpin on, too" (they were very severe upon all superfluities of dress);"she 
that was giggling and chattering all the time the brother was preaching, so that even 
the old sisters in the neighborhood couldn't hear what he was saying, though they 
tried to. She thinks I mean her. I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart for any 
parents that have raised a girl to her time of day, and haven't taught her how to be- 
have when she comes to church. Little girl, you have disgraced your parents as 
well as yourself. Behave better next time, won't you? But I don't mean her." 

Directing his finger to another aim, he said, "That man sitting there, that looks 
as bright and 'peart' as if he never was asleep in his life and never expected to be, 
but who just as soon as the brother took his text, laid his head down on the seat in 
front of him, went sound asleep, slept the whole time, and snored; that man thinks 
I mean him. My friend, don't you know the church ain't the place to sleep? If 
you needed rest, why didn't you stay at home, take off your clothes, and go to bed? 
That's the place to sleep, not at church. The next time you have a chance to hear a 
sermon, I advise you to keep awake. But I don't mean him." Thus did he pro- 
ceed, pointing out every man, woman, and child who had in the slightest deviated 
from a befitting line of conduct; characterizing the misdemeanors, and reading sharp 
lessons of rebuke. 

Judge White was all this time sitting at the end of the front seat, just under the 
speaker, enjoying the old gentleman's disquisition to the last degree; twisting his 
neck around to see if the congregation relished the "down comings" as much as he 
did; rubbing his hands, smiling, chuckling inwardly. Between his teeth and cheek 
was a monstrous quid of tobacco, which the better he was pleased the more he 
chewed ; the more he chewed the more he spat, and behold, the floor bore witness to 
the result. At length the old gentleman, straightening himself up to his full height, 
continued, with great gravity : 

"And now I reckon you want to know who I do mean? I mean that dirty, nasty, 
filthy tobacco-chcwer, sitting on the end of that front seat;" — his finger meanwhile 



SKETCH OF REV. WILLIAM RAPER. 363 

pointing true as the needle to the pole — "see what he has been about. Look at the 
puddles on the floor; a frog wouldn't get into them; think of the tails of the sis- 
ters' dresses being dragged through that muck," The crest-fallen judge declared 
that he never chewed any more tobacco in church. 

I borrow from Mr. F. D. Mussey the following stories told of the Rev. William 
H. Raper, and a sketch of Russell Bigelow : 

"While Mr. Raper was traveling a circuit in Southeastern Indiana, he lost his way 
in the woods one dark night and wandered about for several hours. At last, in his 
wanderings he came to the banks of a stream. The rain had been falling steadily 
for several days, and he knew the water must be very high. He felt that to remain 
out all night in his exhausted condition meant death, and determined to cross the 
stream, if possible, and seek shelter on the other side. He dismounted and groped 
along in the darkness as best he could, until he came to what he supposed to be a 
bridge, and carefully led his horse on to it. As he proceeded, he felt it givino; under 
him, step by step, but kept on until finally he reached the other side in safety. At 
a short distance he discovered a house, and, after arousing the inmates, obtained 
permission to stay all night. They asked him how he had been able to cross the 
creek; he said by the bridge; they were confounded, and told him there was no 
bridge there. In the morning they went to the place and discovered that in the 
darkness he had crossed on floating driftwood that had become jammed. 

"At another time, while crossing a very full stream at an early hour one morning, 
his horse thrcAV him into the water. It was near where the creek emptied into the 
Ohio, and he was being rapidly borne out into the current of the river, when, by 
chance, he was swept near an overhanging branch, which he was able to seize and 
hold. To that he clung until his strength was almost exhausted. No help was near, 
and he was about to give up in despair, when he seemed to hear a voice saying, 
'Mother is praying for you, and you will be saved.' This gave him new courage, 
and, making another and a final effort, he reached the bank in safety. On reaching 
his mother's house, several days afterward, she told him she had had a terrible dream 
about him. She said that one morning she was awakened in a great fright, and 
heard some one saying, 'William is in great danger.' She sprang from her bed and 
began praying for him. This she kept up until at last a peace fell upon her spirit, 
and she was satisfied her son had escaped from the danger which threatened him. 
On comparing the time, it was found to be at exactly the hour he was struggling with 
the raging waters a hundred miles distant," 



364 A skeptic's report of a sermon by RUSSELL BIGELOW. 

One of the most famous preachers in the West was Kussell Bigelow, who is thus 
described by Mr. Mussey. "He was about medium height, of slender frame and 
feeble constitution. His head was large, and forehead high and prominent. He 
wore his hair long, and as it was rather thin, it gave him a cadaverous appearance. 
He had a wonderful power over an audience, and could sway the nuiltitudes at his 
will b}' his eloquence, which was lofty and fervent. Such was his fame that when it 
was announced that he was to preach, the people for many miles flocked to hear 
him. His appearance was much against him, for he was always clad in coarse and 
ill-fitting garments. He had a keen eye, prominent cheek-bones, a projecting chin, 
large nose, expanding nostrils, and wide mouth." 

A noted skeptic, who heard him on one of his great occasions, as he preached to a 
large audience at a camp-meeting near Dayton, O., wrote thus of his sermon : 

"Having stated and illustrated his position clearly, he laid broadly the foundation 
of his argument, and piled stone upon stone, hewed and polished, till he stood upon 
a majestic pyramid, with heaven's own light around him, pointing the astonished 
multitude to a brighter home beyond the sun, and bidding defiance to the enemy to 
remove one fragment of the rock on which his feet were placed. His argument 
being complete, his peroration commenced. This was grand beyond description ; the 
whole universe seemed animated by its creator to aid him in persuading the sinners 
to return to God, and the angels commissioned to open heaven and come down and 
strenijthen him. Now he opens the mouth of the pit, and takes us through the 
gloomy avenues, while the bolts retreat and the doors of damnation burst open and 
the wails of the lost come to our ears ; and now he opens heaven and transports us to 
the flowery plains, stands up amid the armies of the blest, to sweep with celestial 
fingers angelic harps, and join the eternal chorus, 'Worthy, worthy the Lamb.' As 
he closed his discourse, every energy of his body and mind was stretched to the 
utmost tension. His soul appeared to be too great for its tenement, and every 
moment ready to burst through and soar away as an eagle toward heaven. His lungs 
labored, his arms rose, the perspiration, with tears, flowed in a steady stream on the 
floor, and everything about him seemed to say, 'Oh, that my head were waters.' But 
the audience thought not of the struggling body, nor even of the giant mind within, 
for they were paralyzed by the avalanche of thought that descended upon them. I 
lost the num, but the subject was all in all." 

"At one time the Conference was to be held in Steubenville, Ohio. A wealthy 
Episcopalian went to the Methodist pastor in that place, and told hira that if he would 



A PRESIDING elder's '<THOMSONIAn" PRACTICE. 865 

send him the most talented man in the Conference he would be glad to entertain 
him. Bigelow was sent to him. He made his appearance at the aristocratic res- 
idence in his home-spun suit. His personal appearance was not prepossessing, and, 
upon meeting the pastor, the Episcopalian complained that he had not been rightly 
treated. He was reminded that he had asked for the most talented man, and he had 
been sent to him. The pastor said to him: 'He is to preach at the Presbyterian 
church to-morrow morning. You go and hear him, and then, if you are still dis- 
satisfied, I will change and send you the bishop,' The host and his family attended 
the Presbyterian church the next day. Mr. Bigelow took his seat in the pulpit, and 
when it was time to begin the services, arose and read his hymn. Such readino- of 
poetry had never before been heard in Steubenville, and the host and his daughters 
exchanged surprised and significant glances. It was one of the preacher's grand 
days, and he electrified his audience. At the close of the sermon, the host requested 
his daughters to accompany Mr. Bigelow to the house, saying that he had to attend 
to a little matter down the street. He made his way at once to the Methodist par- 
sonage, and calling the pastor to one side, told him that he would not trade off 
Mr. Bigelow and his home-spun suit for all the bishops. Such is the power of 
eloquence." 

The stately Bishop Lonle was holding the Indiana Conference at an early day, when 
charges were preferred against one of the leading pioneer preachers, to the effect 
that Avhile traveling his district as a presiding elder he was in the habit of practicing 
Thomsonian medicine. In defending himself, the backwoodsman said: "Now, Mr. 
bishop, you know that when I travel my big district, full of swamps and woods, where, 
especially in the fall of the year, the pestilence walketh in darkness and destruction 
wasteth at noonday, if I was to come across a man taken with a congestive chill — and 
that thing often happens in these parts, Mr. bishop — and I knew he might die in the 
first chill, and if he got over that would probable die in the second, and if he had a 
third be sure to die; why, Mr. bishop, you know I would give him a hot bath with a 
blanket round him the first thing, and after that, Mr. bishop, you know I would dose 
him with lobelia and number six, and the chances are I'd save him." The bishop, 
sitting with folded arms, a look of stony indifference, not to say disdain, on his face, 
lost patience and said: "No, brother, I do not know, and what is more, I do not 
care, what you would do in such a case." "All right," exclaimed the frontiersman, 
"all right, Mr. bishop, you have as good a right to live and die a fool as any other 
man." 



366 liRINGING FORTH FRUITS MEET FOR REPENTANCE. 

The Rev. John Kobler was one of the earliest Methodist preachers in Ohio. He 
preached one day in the log cabin of a settler to a handful of people from the text : 
"If any man will come after me let him deny himself, and take up his cross and 
follow me," and by simple and practical illustrations, strove to bring the truth home 
to the understanding and conscience of his hearers. The service ended, the con- 
gregation dispersed, and the preacher tarried to break bread with his host, and after- 
wards mounted for a long ride through the forest along a blazed way. After an hour or 
two he overtook a little Dutchman and his fat wife who had heard the sermon. The 
little fellow was staggering along under the almost crushing weight of his corpulent 
help-meet mounted on his back, her arms clasped about his throat, and he holding her 
ankles carrying her "pick-a-back." The preacher rode up, amazed at the spectacle, 
and asked, "What's the matter, is your wife sick?" "Sick," exclaimed the Dutchman, 
"no, she's not sick." "What are you carrying her for then?" "What am I carry- 
ing her for," shouted the little fellow, "didn't you tell me to carry her? You said, 
if a man wanted to save his soul, he must pick up and carry the most disagreeable 
thing he had. I want to save my soul, and so I thought the best thing I could do 
was to pick up and carry my bad-tempered old woman." Who can deny that the 
man was bringing forth fruits meet for repentance. 

An old friend of mine, the Rev. Jonathan Stamper, one of the most effective 
preachers in those early days, had delivered an overwhelming sermon at a camp-meet- 
ing, and hundreds were pricked to the heart and rushed to the mourners' benches in 
and about the altar. As Mr. Stamper went about counseling, comforting, and pray- 
ing with them, he came to a Dutchman who for years had been notorious for out- 
rageous and blasphemous wickedness. He now knelt at a bench, his frame shaken 
as by a convulsion, the deep of his heart broken, his sobs, groans, and tears inces- 
sant as he cried for mercy. As the preacher knelt by him to speak words of encour- 
agement and hope, the penitent raised his head and gasped out, "Kick me brother, 
kick me good, kick me till I can't walk or stand; I deserve all that and more, for I 
have been the dreadfullest sinner in all this neck of woods." This was another 
case of repentance unto life. 

One of the saddlebags regiment was discoursino; to his cono;reo;ation on the value 
of the soul, when he was interrupted by an infidel, who arose and blandlj^ said, "I 
know Latin and Greek, and the soul only means the wind or air — you might say a 
smelling-bottle." The preacher, nothing daunted, answered, "Then let us see how my 
text would read: For what is man profited if he shall gain the whole world and 



JDR. JOHN V. DURBIN AT THE "ACADEMY," PHILADELPHIA. 3t)7 

lose his own smelling-bottle ; or, what shall a man give in exchange for his smelling- 
bottle?" The infidel retired, and the sermon went on. 

The Eev. Dr. John P. Durbin, whose fame and power as a preacher were in his 
day second to none in the country, was born towards the close of the last century, or 
the beginning of this, in Kentucky, when it was the "far west." He grew up on the 
frontier with few advantages, save such as pioneer life could furnish ; but if the Ro- 
man fable be true, even wolf's milk is not bad nourishment for men of genius and 
heroic mold. Beginning his ministry upon the vast circuits of the west, preachino- 
in log-cabins, school-houses, and at camp-meetings ; sleeping on the ground many a 
night, in winter as well as summer, his horse hobbled near by; his fare, parched corn 
or "dodger," bear meat, or bacon; inured to the privations and hardships which be- 
longed to the career of a backwoods itinerant, with indomitable energy he pursued not 
only his theological studies, but academic as well ; came up for the collegiate exami- 
nations, and was honorably graduated A. B. To his energy and love of knowledo-e 
there was added that strange, fascinating power called eloquence. His fame filled 
the West, and in time crossed the Alleghanies. Among my own earliest recollec- 
tions are those of the appearance, voice, and manner of Dr. Durbin, as he stood in 
the old-fashioned, high pulpit — on a level with the gallerj^ and a sounding-board 
above it — of the "Academy," a Methodist church which had been built by White- 
field, on Fourth street, below Arch, in Philadelphia. There I sat, an eager, ques- 
tioning child, amid the dense hushed throng that had gathered to hear the renowned 
preacher. Though I could understand little of what was said, I still remember the 
monotonous, almost drawling tones, with which Dr. Durbin began the service in the 
hymn, prayer, lessons, and opening of the sermon. Those who had not heard him 
before were always keenly, not to say bitterly, disappointed by his manner and ap- 
pearance. His frame was almost slight, his face well-nigh dull, nor was there any- 
thing noteworthy about the appearance of his head ; even the eye was inexpressive. 
The discourse began upon an ordinary conversational key, proceeded with the un- 
folding of the subject sometimes for half an hour without a hint of what was com- 
ing. The language was plain; the style unlabored; the thought ingenious, rather 
than profound; and though sometimes subtle, was usually on the hearers' plane. 
When all expectation was subdued, and it seemed as if the sermon was to continue 
upon the accustomed level of commonplace, the preacher would appear for an instant 
to undergo a transformation, and the lifeless manner, the drawling tone, the dull face 
and eve, were changed — and such a change ! A kind of electric shock ran through 



368 HENRY B. BASCOM AT ST. GEORGE S, PHILADELPHIA, 

the assembly. The change was only for a moment, but was soon repeated and con- 
tinued for a lono-er time ; and the new manner and the new man remained. It seemed 
as if his spirit had dropped the garment of the flesh, was embodied of its own sub- 
stance, naked and visible to mortal sight. The voice grew round, full, flexible, sonor- 
ous, the exquisite vehicle of every emotion; the action was full of power, and his 
form seemed to dilate to gigantic size ; his face became mobile, dramatic, radiant, 
and his eye shone with an almost insufferable splendor which well-nigh dazzled and 
overpowered all beholders. The trance of the hearers was complete; life was ab- 
sorbed in hearing, sight, and emotion ; they leaned forward, stood up, forgot to 
breathe; and the silence was so awful that the preacher's voice sounded as if in a 
place of the dead. When it seemed as if they were all caught up into the heaven of 
heavens, had heard things unutterable, the rapture tempered by awe, the preacher 
ceased, and slowly men regained their consciousness. As the congregation dispersed, 
men and women spoke with bated breath, saying, with the patriarch: "Surely the 
Lord is in this place. How dreadful is this place ; it is none other but the house of 
God, and this is the gate of heaven." 

HENRY B. BASCOM. 

At about eight o'clock on a Sunday morning, in May, 1832, I stood in a hud- 
dled group of impatient men and women in front of the old St. George's Meth- 
odist church, on Fourth street, below New, in Philadelphia, waiting for the doors 
of the quaint edifice to be opened. By nine o'clock the crowd was numbered by 
hundreds, and thronged the street, and when at last the doors were opened, the rush 
that followed was fearful. Within a few minutes every seat in the house was taken; 
the passages, and even windows, were filled by people of all sorts and conditions, Avho 
sat or stood two hours longer, awaiting the beginning of the service at eleven o'clock. 
The preacher had to enter the church through a window at the back by the help of a 
ladder, and found no small trouble in edging his way through the chancel and up the 
pulpit steps, so dense was the throng. As he stood to give out the hymn, the breath- 
less multitude looked upon one of the handsomest men that ever trod this continent. 
Had he lived in Greece, Phidias might have wrought his form, face, and head into 
marble, and called it Apollo. That preacher was Henry Bidleman Bascom, then 
thirty-six years of age, in the prime of his manly beauty, intellectual vigor, and ex- 
traordinary eloquence, the most conspicuous preacher in the General Conference of 
the ^Methodist church, at that time sitting in Philadelphia, and filling a larger space 



HIS EARLY LIFE AND CONVERSION. 3t)9 

in the public eye than any other in the country. I was only in my ninth year, yet 
cannot forget, after half a century, the impression made by his supreme beauty and 
transcendent power. 

He was the son of Alpheus and Hannah Houk Bascom, born on the 27th of May, 
1796, in the town of Hancock, Delaware county, N. Y., two miles from what is now 
the village of Chehocton, on the New York and Erie Railway. On the father's side 
his blood was Huguenot French, intermixed with the Puritan of England and New 
England; on his mother's, it was German. The wilderness was his school-house, 
poverty and hardship his course of study, and adversity the head-master whose les- 
sons he had to con and iloo;o;ino:s to endure for most of his life. He learned to read 
and write, and had a little instruction in the beginning of an English education, be- 
fore his twelfth year, but the next time he stepped into an academy it was as a 
professor. 

Although sober, industrious and virtuous, his father never was beforehand with 
the w^orld, except in matter of wives, of whom three fell to his lot, and of children, 
in wdiich species of wealth he was the equal of the patriarch Jacob, for twelve were born 
in his house, of whom Henry was the second. From the picturesque banks of the 
Delaware, where his boyhood was passed, he removed with his father's family to 
Little Valle}^ in southwestern New York, in 1808, and had a yet sharper experience 
of the frontier of civilization, for the Seneca Indians were still the lords of the soil, 
and there were few whites in the district. When fourteen years old he was converted 
to the faith of Christ, in the next year joined the Methodist church, and soon after 
began to take part in religious meetings, exhorting the people to flee from the wrath 
to come and to hi}^ hold on eternal life. Soon after this the family made another 
move toward the setting sun, and at last found a resting-place five miles north of 
Maysville, Ky. — then called Limestone — in the State of Ohio. He had worked upon 
the farm, bored logs, made pumps, was a drayman, a hewer of wood, a rail-splitter; 
in short, had turned his hand, with his whole might, to whatever kind of labor of- 
fered, meanwhile snatching the brief hours of rest he could get, to be used with still 
greater energy in committing to the unrelaxing grasp of his memory the contents 
of what few books fell in his way, and in using his gift to warn and counsel his fel- 
low-men. He believed himself called to be an ambassador for God, in Christ's stead, 
to beseech men to be reconciled to Him, and burned with a quenchless ardor to be 
about his Master's work. When sixteen years old, he felled the trees and made rails 
for twenty-five cents per hundred, and thus earned the money to equip himself as a 
24 



370 FIRST ATTEJ^ANCE AT ANNUAL CONFERENCE. 

recruit in the forlorn hope of backwoods preachers, and set out from his father's 
house, in September, 1812, for the session of the Ohio Conference, held at Chilli- 
cothe. He there saw and heard the venerable and sagacious Bishop Asbury, and also 
the o-reat and wise Bishop M'Kendree, then in the flower of his age and the meridian 
of his power, Avhose weighty and burning words, reinforced, as they were, by the 
sino-leness and loftiness of their aims and motives, wrought mightily in his sensitive 
spirit, and gave an unchanging form to his character. A first attendance at the ses- 
sion of an Annual Conference, to a 3"oung candidate for holy orders, is a memorable 
experience. The order of business; the grave and dignified presidency of the 
bishops ; the striking individuality, physiognomy, and impressive voices of the men 
who take the principal parts in the proceedings; the sermons; the praj^ers; the sing- 
ino-; the experiences given in the "love-feast;" the meetings around hospitable 
boards; the stories of adventure, perils, humor, and fun; the intimate fellowship; 
the esprit du corps, such as reigns in no other body of men I have known, give it a 
power to subdue and discipline, yet to kindle and inspire, that can hardly elsewhere 
be found. The consummation is reached when the parliamentary business is com- 
pleted, the journal read, and one of the oldest members gives out the hymn be- 
ginning : 

"And let our bodies part, 

To different climes repair; 
Inseparably joined in heart 
The friends of Jesus are.'" 

The hymn is sung by a hundred and fifty men or more, whose homes and those of their 
families, their spheres of labor, with circumstances of privation, exposure, toil, pov- 
erty, perhaps of suffering and death, are unknown to them, but are presently to be 
announced by the venerable bishop. Then follows the tremulous, fervent, pathetic, 
spiritual prayer of the aged servant of God, during which tears flow freel}', sobs 
and aniens are heard, and then, in the breathless silence, the bishop stands, and, in 
a voice betraying deep emotion, tells them that, in the exercise of his great power, 
he has humbly sought the help and guidance of Christ; that in the places to which 
he is sending them, they may have many a peril and manj^ a sorrow; that they may 
be cold and hungry, scoffed and hissed at, weary and heavy laden ; that probably 
they will not all meet again on earth ; that whoever falls must fall at his post with 
his face Zionward. And then, exhorting them to endure hardness as good soldiers, 
he promises the hidden but suificient cheer and support and eternal blessing of the 
Great Head of the Church — "And now, brethren, I commend you to God and to the 



LICENSED TO PREACH. 371 

word of his grace, which is able to build you up and to give you an inheritance among 
them Avhich are sanctified," "an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth 
not away." His address ended, he slowl}^ reads the name of each district, station, 
circuit, and the men appointed to them. I have witnessed many a scene of deep 
dramatic interest, Avhere nerves and brain were thrilled and the heart almost stood 
still, but none which, in breathless emotion, intense, almost tragic feeling, and high, 
heroic aspect, compare with the closing scenes of a Western Conference in the early 
days, when hundreds of men heard their fate from the lips of one man, and took 
their lives in their hands to obey his behest, loyally believing him to be, for them 
and theirs, the mouth of God's great Providence. One can easily imagine the effect 
of such a scene, and the influences which led up to it, upon an imaginative, sensitive, 
sympathetic nature like Bascom's. That session of the Conference, for him, was 
more than equal in value to a year's schooling, and he returned to his father's log 
cabin with impulse, courage, zeal, and devotion quickened as by the baptism of the 
Holy Ghost. 

In February, 1813, Bascom received license to preach, and Avas appointed by the 
presiding elder, the excellent James Quinn, of blessed memory, as "helper" on Brush 
Creek Circuit, which lay in several counties up and down and back of the Ohio River, 
and in the following autumn was received on trial in the Ohio Conference. At that 
day a presiding elder's district in the West covered as wide a territory as is now in- 
cluded in several Conferences: the larger part of Indiana, the whole of Illinois, and 
the whole of Missouri were in single circuits. The last war with Great Britain was 
raging; the Indians on the western border were in arms against our people, and 
preachers had to face the peculiar dangers and endure the especial hardshii)s of the 
times. Bascom's zeal and devotion were equal to every demand upon them. He 
devoured whatever books came in his way, mastered and retained their contents; 
preached once or twice, sometimes thrice, almost every day ; met the classes ; visited 
the sick; had long rides, sometimes perilous ones, through unbroken forests as well 
as in the open; fared and slept hard; "was instant in season and out of season," 
and made full proof of his ministry. As Chillicothe, the capital of Ohio, was in his 
first circuit, it offered him rare advantages, better society, and more books than he 
had before seen, and he eagerly appropriated them. His yearning for all knids of 
knowledge was passionate, insatiable. Never did a youth more earnestly redeem the 
time from sloth and self-indulgence by the ransom of sleepless vigilance, shrewd ob- 
servation, patient and unremitting study, and untiring efforts to improve and educate 



372 CAST IN nature's finest mold. 

himself in every part and in all directions. He read while in the saddle on his long, 
hard rides, or seated at the foot of a tree, where a panther might be lurking for a 
deadly spring (as, indeed, was once the case, when he was saved from the fierce 
creature's teeth and claws by the timely ball of a hunter's rifle, the monster falling 
dead at his feet) ; in the cabin homes of his parishoners, where the single room 
served as kitchen, laundry, nursery, dining-room, bedroom, for the family and their 
guests, and sometimes, also, as kennel and poultry yard, with the scolding wife, 
grumbling husband, squalling children, growling curs, and clucking hens, to furnish 
a musical accompaniment to his studious researches, or when the rest were locked in 
sleep, he, lying on the ample hearth, pursued his studies far into the night by the 
flickering light of a pine-knot stuck in a corner of the chimney. Knowledge thus 
gained is sure to be valued and converted into the reproductive grain by which a man 
may live. Brave as the boldest frontiersman who ever fought with crafty savages, 
he was yet shy, self -distrustful, and sensitive as a timid girl; and, seeking to hide 
his quivering sensibilities and tremulous, almost morbid, modesty from the common 
gaze, he covered himself with a mantle of reserve, which was thought, by common 
observers, to be one of haughty pride. Cast in nature's finest mold, "ruddy and 
well-favored," with buoyant step, grace in every motion, erect and dauntless in car- 
riage, every feature of the face perfect, his head covered by a wealth of curly, dark 
hair, a study for the artist, the light of intense feeling and fieiy genius in his glorious 
eye, which looked straight at and through you, it is not strange that he should be 
misunderstood and misinterpreted by the mass of men about him. Silent amonjr 
strangers ; without command of the commonplace nothings of ordinary talk ; hating 
gossip and scandal ; wholly free from the spirit of fault-finding and back-biting, some- 
times called criticism ; speaking, when he had anything to say, in a prompt, decisive, 
sometimes impetuous way, the emphasis of his utterance increased by his shrinking 
difiidence, and, withal, an uncompromising adherence to truth and a fearless honesty 
— all these qualities helped to throw him out of the pale of instant recognition and 
easy familiarity. Earely, therefore, has it happened that so sweet, tender, magnan- 
imous, princely a nature as his has been so generally misconstrued, oppressed, and, 
at times, almost crushed. His brilliant genius, too — a genius which laid under con- 
tribution the thoughts of other men, assimilated and reproduced them bearing the 
impress of his striking individuality, and sent them into wide circulation as glittering 
yet precious coin, but totally different from the mintage of other men — served to in- 
crease the distance betwixt himself and them. 



PUTTING HIS METTLE TO THE PROOF. 373 

It was resolved by the authorities to put Basconi's mettle to the proof, and he 
was sent to Guyandotte Circuit, in West Virginia, pleasantly styled the Botany 
Bay of the Conference, as rough a part of the country, at that day, as any 
preacher has ever been sent to work in. To Guyandotte he went without a mur- 
mur, and within nine months preached four hundred times, rode through that 
wild, sometimes trackless, almost impassable mountain district three thousand 
miles, battling with the elements, sleeping in hollow logs, chased bv wolves, 
fighting with a bear, swimming mountain torrents, living on "hog and hominy," 
"dodger and bear meat," and received for his year's work twelve dollars and ten 
cents. This is what he said in a letter to a friend, at the close of that year: 

"But none of these things move me. I possess a settled consciousness that I did 
not engage in the ministry to accumulate wealth, and when I meet with trials and 
disparagements I am not at all disappointed, but meet Avith firnnicss what I had 
anticipated, not with fear. I can get, as soon as I please, fi\'e hundred per an- 
num for my services; but no, I'll travel, and try to possess the spirit of good- 
ness and universal benevolence; and, while I feel animating fires in my veins, 
I'll preach His Gospel Avho gave me power to preach." 

He was now entitled to be admitted into the Conference as a member, and to 
receive deacon's orders. His character Avas blameless, his conduct irreproachable, 
his industr}^ unremitting in every part of his duty, and his devotion to his Master's 
work supreme ; but a vote of the Conference refused to admit and grant him orders ! 

The minutes for that year state that Henry B. Basconi was continued on trial. 
The next A'ear he was sent to the Mad River Circuit, Avhich was bounded on one side 
by the Indian country. The savages had not yet slaked their thirst for blood, and a 
house in which he stayed for a night was assaulted by them, but was so well built 
and guarded that their attack was fruitless. As he rode off the next day, he found 
himself pursued by the red-men, but, as he was on a powerful horse, he managed to 
keep well ahead, but soon came in sight of the Great Miami Eiver, full, and covered 
with floating ice. As he paused, the Indians raised an exulting shout, for their prey 
now seemed within their grasp. He spurred his horse, plunged boldl}' into the rush- 
ing torrent, steered as Avell as he might amidst the floating ice, and gained the other 
shore just as the savages reached the one he had left. They dared not venture into 
the roaring flood, contenting themselves with impotent yells and brandishing their 
tomahawks. His dripping clothes were soon changed into a mail of ice, and he was in 
danger of freezing. Emptying the water from his saddlebags and boots, wringing 



374 PROVIDED WITH ORTHODOX CLERICAL (JARB. 

his .stockings, he mounted again, aiul, after a long ride, reached a friendly house, 
where he was soon re-clothed and comforted. Going to bed early, after the fatigue 
and excitement of the day, his deep, sweet sleep was soon disturbed by the informa- 
tion that the accouchement of the lady of the house was at hand, and the re(juest 
that he would go in search of a nurse and doctor, and find himself another place to 
slec[). Twenty years later, at the close of a service Avliere he had preached, a j^oung 
lady was introduced to him, who begged his pardon for having robbed him of a night's 
sleep after a trying day. Somewhat startled by the statement, he was endeavoring 
to recall where and how, when she laughingly informed him that it was her advent 
into this sphere that made the finale of that daj^'s experience. 

Another year's hard work was done, and faithfully done, yet his brethren doubted 
if he were worthy to become a member of the Conference and ordained a deacon. 
Some light may be shed on the problem by this incident: An old layman, who was 
really much attached to Basconi, Avas, nevertheless, grieved to the core by what 
seemed his conformity to the world in the matter of dress, and that conformity ar- 
gued a very low state of piety. "Heniy, my boy," he said, in a half admonitory, 
half pathetic tone, "what makes you such a dandy — why don't you try to be and 
look like a Methodist preacher? You dress and carry yourself in such a way that 
many of your brethren think you've got no religion." "My dear brother," answered 
Bascom, meekly, "my pay is so poor that I am obliged to wear what clothes are given 
me, and if I happen to look well in them I can't help it; God made me what I 
am." "Yes, you can help it," said the old man, with some warmth, "and you must 
help it. I'll cure the matter. Will you wear a suit of clothes that I'll have made 
for you?" "Gladly," said Basconi. "All right," said his old friend, "I'll make 
you look like a Methodist preacher; the clothes shall be ready for you when you 
come around the next time to attend the camp-meeting." A month later, Basconi 
reached the camp-ground, and his old friend was ready for him; taking him out into 
the woods, he said, exulting, "Strip off those foppish clothes and put on these, and, 
for once in your hfe you will look like a minister." Bascom stepped aside, arrayed 
himself in the new garments, while the old man rubbed his hands and chuckled Avith 
glee at the prospect of beholding his pvolege in orthodox parsonic gear. The de- 
formed, transformed Bascom stepped forth, his fine person attired in a suit of blue 
jeans, the waistcoat buttoned straight to the throat, the coat a genuine Quaker "shad 
belly," something like an English bishop's. As the old man saw him approaching 



BUT HE LOOKED LIKE A PRINCE EVEN IN HOMESPUN. 375 

with elastic step, in his radiant beauty,* he started up aghast, could scarce trust the 
testimony of his eyes, advanced, turned Basconi round and round, retired a few paces, 
surveyed him from every point of vicAV, and, with a discomforted expression and 
dolorous tone, exclaimed, "Henry, there's no doing anything with you; you're a 
born fop; you look a hundred times more like a dand}^ than you ever did before." 
What could be done with a man who was so becoming in whatever he wore, who 
looked like a courtier or prince even in homespun ! 

When Bishop M'Kendree saw that a majority of the Conference had resolved to 
keep Bascom still on trial, he said, "Give that boy to me, admit and elect him to 
deacon's orders, and I will take care of him." Bascom was transferred to the Ten- 
nessee Conference, and appointed to the Danville Circuit, in Kentucky. Year after 
year he wrought and studied with untiring patience and fidelity, his reputation as a 
wonderful preacher growing apace, but still distrusted by many of his brethren ; and 
this was the case even down to the close of his life. He and I happened to stop to- 
gether at the Planters' House, St. Louis, in May, 1850, during the General Confer- 
ence at which he was made a bishop. I vividly remember the nights when we were 
left alone, how he paced the floor, sometimes in excitement, sometimes in anguish, 
and told the puerile stories that were repeated to his discredit, whispered to him in 
strictest confidence, of course, by condoling friends of the Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar 
types: how he sported a gold-headed cane (which had been given him); how he 
looked proud and vain and worldly ; how he carried himself like a fine gentleman, 
and courted the world's applause by his brilliant rhetoric and stagey airs, and how 
all these things unfitted him to be a Methodist bishop. Gadflies can torture and madden 
a blooded horse ; and these petty persecutions caused the sensitive Bascom an amount 
and quality of suffering, throughout his whole public career, which it would be dif- 
ficult to describe or measure. Even two of the older bishops doubted the expediency 
of elevating him to the bench, influenced, without question, in part at least, by the 
same petty feelings. The man was blameless in his walk and conversation; once 
only was a rumor breathed against him affecting his reputation as a gentleman and 
Christian minister — of that I shall speak later. I have rarely known a man so sweet 
and tender in his feelings, so modest, even difiident, in self-estimate ; or one more 

* So impressive were his presence and bearing, even in his latest years, that, as he wallved the streets 
of Lexington, where he was as well Isnown as was Henry Clay, it was the habit of those who saw him 
oftenest, as well as strangers, men, women, and children, white and black, to pause as he passed, turn 
TQund and gaze upon his receding flgure. 



376 HIS FILIAL. PIETY. 

just and kind in his recognition and appreciation of others. When his fame and in- 
fluence grew great, he was the fast friend of the young and obscure, tolerant of de- 
fects, hearty in encouragement, liberal in every kind of help he could afford to those who 
were struggling toward excellence. Many a young preacher has he striven to shield 
from the buffets and scorns of which he himself had such bitter experience. His 
judgments of men always leaned to mercy's side, and he seldom failed to put the 
best construction possible upon men's motives and conduct, especially if they were 
unfortunate and aspersed. His filial piet}^ and deep interest in the welfare of his 
brothers and sisters, brought him an increase of care and distress. As his father ad- 
vanced in years, although children multiplied under his roof, there was no improve- 
ment in his financial affairs; on the contrary, they grew more embarrassed. Whith- 
ersoever he went, and however hard his own lot might be, Bascom's heart never for- 
sook his father's home, but was full of brooding concern for the welfare of its in- 
mates. What spare time he could get was spent by him in striving to promote the 
comfort of the family, laboring, as of yore, at the plow-handles, with the ax, the 
scythe, or flail, bringing the larger part of his slender stipend to the family chest, 
and busying himself in every possible way to further the education of his brothers 
and sisters, and, in later years, that of their children. When he came to be a col- 
lege professor and the most popular preacher in the United States, he was accus- 
tomed to spend his vacation with his father, and would return from a tour in the 
Eastern cities, where thousands hung enchanted on his lips, and in return offered him 
the Circean cup of applause and flattery, "with many murmurs mixed," to assist in 
the harvest of his father's crops, and, with his own hands, to cut and haul the wood 
for the winter's fires. I believe that he never seriously entertained the thought of 
marriage for himself, until his brothers and sisters were settled or started in life in 
the best way his providence could compass. When his beloved mother died, he was 
kneeling by her bedside, her hand clasped in his, and her last whisper was in his ear. 
When his father passed away, he was again kneeling by that bed, cheering the de- 
parting soul with God's gracious promises, administering the sacrament of the Lord's 
Supper, and, as the old man breathed his last, the loyal-hearted son laid his head 
upon the same pillow, and gave vent to his over-burdened breast in a flood of tears. 
While he was yet a young preacher, traveling the hardest circuit in the connection, 
one of his sisters died and bequeathed to him her two children. He accepted the trust 
and religiously performed its duties, providing for their education and settlement in 
life. The scanty pittance he received year after year from the church, was un- 



SELF-DENIAL EVEN TO POVERTY. 377 

equal to these demands, and, as the calls upon him grew more importunate, to save 
his family from beggary or dishonor, he fell into debt — that gulf profound wherein he 
floundered and knew no escape. This misery began as early as 1814, and, although 
he had no gift for making or taking care of money, yet the anguish he suffered from 
the want of it, amounting, at times, almost to the bitterness of death, was not caused 
by extravagance or self-indulgence. Here is a sample of the letters he had from 
home. His father, writing in 1825, said, "My corn is light; what little remained of 
our wheat crop the weevils have destroyed; my potatoes are barely the seed, and pov- 
erty crowds on every side." And this is what Bascom said in 1827 : "My father is 
alarmingly infirm this spring. On this subject I tremble between hope and fear. I 
am quite fixed in my purpose to locate this fall. I am compelled to do it, and can 
hesitate no longer. I do not believe it is my duty to suffer even to disgrace, in order 
to remain in the traveling connection. My situation is getting worse every day — the 
interest of the money I owe exceeds my income, and my correspondence costs me 
one hundred and thirty dollars a year.* My clothes are worn out, and I have not the 
means to replace them. What better can I do than retire from an unequal contest? 
I should like to remain in the traveling connection, but I am fatally doomed, after 
fourteen years of toil, like Cowper's stricken deer, to seek the shade and try to re- 
cover from my wounds." 

A list of the books he read, if it could be had, would prove of great interest, as 
showing his diet and what came of it in the way of mental fiber. You see him in 
these early days with Beattie on "Truth," and Blair's "Sermons" often in hand, and 
I suppose thoroughly in the memory. There is internal evidence, too, that the la- 
bored antithesis and the verbose efflorescence of Dr. Samuel Johnson's style had a 
fascination for him. Devouring greedily all books that came in his way, and through 
the alchemy of his memory making their contents a part of himself ; earnestly striv- 
ing to conform to what were recognized as the highest standards of style, without 
competent teachers or guides to instruct, suggest, repress, and direct, it is not to be 
wondered at that his taste should be at fault and his style in composition not above 
criticism. Young's "Night Thoughts" was a hand-book to the divines of that day, 
and Pollok's "Course of Time" soon won its way to equal popularity. Pope's la- 
bored and artificial verses were held to be the perfection both of genius and art. Is 
it strange, then, that this untutored boy, growing rapidly to intellectual manhood, 
should deck himself out in a wardrobe which will not bear the exacting scrutiny of a 

* He was, at the time, President of Madison College. 



378 ELECTED CHAPLAIN TO CONGRESS. 

later taste? Bag-wigs, lace ruffles, trunk-hose, silk stockings, and shoes with silver 
buckles are not now in vogue, but it is probable that as good men and true have 
worn them as any now arrayed in monkey-jackets, cut-away coats, swallow-tails, and 
trousers. Fashions in rhetoric change as do those in garments. Even Milton's 
magnificent prose would hardly suit a newspaper or review to-day ; and I suppose 
Jeremy Taylor would be counted a bore by most contemporary fashionable congre- 
gations, and a pedant by the critics. Lovers and users of the well of English unde- 
filed might declare Bascom's style to be sesquipedalian at times; but there were few 
such in the country at his day. 

In 1823, after doing thorough work in .some of the roughest parts of the frontier 
for nine years, and winning recognition as the most eloquent and p(jwerful preacher 
of the Gospel in the M'^est, through the influence of Henry Clay, Mr. Bascom was 
elected cliaplain to Congress. When he stood for the first time behind the clerk's 
desk in the old hall of Representatives at Washington, before an immense congrega- 
tion in which were the leading public men of the country, their expectation on tip-toe 
by reason of the unbounded praise of Mr. Clay and the other western men who had 
heard him, Bascom's heart failed him for fear. Hitherto he had preached in cabins, 
log school-houses, framed meeting-houses, or on camp-grounds, to a motley assem- 
blage of men, women, and children, dressed for the most part in linsey-woolsey or 
deer-skin, uncritical, and, even if indifferent or antagonistic, easily roused and moved. 
But here the surroundings were new, strange, oppressive; the assembly was illustri- 
ous, cold, satiated with public speaking, and disposed to cavil. The atmosphere of 
the audience froze the genial currents of his soul, and, benumbed, almost paralyzed, poor 
Bascom struggled through his discourse. To Mr. Clay and his other friends it seemed 
three hours in length, to the rest of the audience interminable, and to the preacher 
himself, an age. I have never known so nervous and difiident a public speaker. He 
could not stand up to begin a service before the smallest and most obscure congrega- 
tion to which he ever preached, without shaking from head to foot as from a severe 
ague, while the leaves of the hymn-book would rattle from the contagion of his quiv- 
ering hand. He has often paced the floor in a kind of terrified anguish for three 
days and nights, almost Avithout sleep or food, before he was to preach. His sense 
of the responsibility was awful — that he, a frail mortal man, should speak for the 
Most High God to his fellows on the infinite issues of life and death, the judgment 
and eternity. He could not recover from the chill of his first service in the capitol, 
and his chaplaincy in the halls of Congress was not successful. His morbid shrinking. 



WONDERFUL SUCCESS AT CAMP-MEETINGS. 379 

and consciousness that he had gravely disappointed the hopes and promises of his 
enthusiastic friends, served still more to handicap him, and he had few more painful 
experiences than that of his sojourn in the Federal city. 

The session of Congress at last closed, and Bascom's long palsy gave way under 
the genial influences of a Maryland camp-meeting, held not far from Annapolis. The 
spell of his captivity broken, he preached with a degree of unction, brilliancy and 
force which overwhelmed his hearers. For many months he passed from one camp- 
ground to another, from Baltimore to Philadelphia, to New York, to Harrisburo-, 
York, Carlisle ; and whithersoever he went thousands hurried to hear him and were 
astonished, electrified, by his eloquence. For 'the next fourteen years (from 1824 
to 1838) his cai'eer as a preacher of righteousness was unexampled in the country 
since the days of Whitefield. He not only charmed and entranced all classes by his 
sermons and lectures; arousing, convincing, persuading, overthrowing men's refuses 
of lies, leading them to penitence, faith, and a holier life, setting in splendid array 
the arguments and proofs which vindicate the claims of Christ's truth and church; 
shaming men out of the scoffs and jeers and supercilious cant of so-called phil- 
osophic unbelief; but without intending it, he gave to hundreds of men and women 
the scribbling itch (cacoethcs scrihendi). Leading editors, writers for magazines, 
poets and poetasters seized the pen and sought to describe this phenomenon in the 
pulpit. Their productions make queer reading. They were magnetized hy his 
genius, felt the contagion of his somewhat grandiose style, and treated that genera- 
tion to an amount of fustian which would now seem incredible if his biographer had 
not given us an overdose of it, and if stilts were not even yet dear to many hearts. 
Take a few specimen sentences : 

"He is the solitary star that fills with a flood of effulgence the skies of his own cre- 
ation, and gilds with loveliness the forms which have arisen at the call of his genius. 
His mind, like the Olympic wrestlers, struggles for mastery wherever it grapples. 
Let him encounter the gnarled and unwedgable oak of error in its century hallowed 
form, and the contact is like that of the electric fluid, rending and illuminating at 
once, but not like the fabled bolt of Jove, rendering sacred what it scarred. The 
fortification which he demolishes is ever after contemptible and untenable. The 
votary of error under any banner which Bascom may stoop to assail, ever afterward 
will disown his flag and be ashamed of his former inconsistency. The subject only, 
and with an omnipotence of power, has stood before his hearers either as an angel 
of light or a fearful demon; the one to sing "Peace on earth, good-will to men," 
the other to forestall doom and threaten an eternity of woe. Let the inflated indi- 
vidual who has, in his boasted researches into philosophy, never gained sight of the 



380 AN EMINENT CONTEMPORARY'S ESTIMATE. 

shore of the gretit ocean of truth, where child-like Newton stood, and only picked up 
pebbles in his own estimation, let this vain boaster but come within the action of 
Bascom's intellectual battery, and a faint smoke or the mere ashes of a consumed 
fabric will only be left to tell where once he stood. ****** 

"While we were yet in a state of dubiety whether or no his audience were not to be 
treated to a merely nebulous disquisition of no particular merit, and asking, men- 
tally, whether this could be the man whom Henry Clay had pronounced the greatest 
natural orator he had ever heard, a brilliant thought, wreaked upon eloquent and 
original expression, enchained our attention, and thenceforward to the close of the 
discourse we wist not that we were occupying a narrow spot in the middle of a 
crowded aisle — cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in — with the thermometer at 
ninety. 

"The text was wrought out into a world of thought, of persuasion, of imagery, to 
which Milton himself might have listened with an applauding spirit. To those who 
cannot retire into that realm of the mind which seems to open upon it the domain of 
immortal prophecy, the illimitable stretch of that vastness where the Omnipotent sits 
clothed in light as with a garment — who are unaccustomed to entertain those views 
which stretch beyond this visible diurnal sphere, or those rapt thoughts that wander 
throuirh eternity— the sermon in question may have seemed too high wrought and 
subhnie to sink at once upon the mind." 

It must be borne in mind that these choice (piotations were from the pens of men 
who ranked among the most admired and influential writers of that day. Bascom's 
speaking seems to have had the effect of dazing people oftentimes. I have known 
serious, sober men, past middle age, scnne of them ministers, who, quitting the 
church after one of his sermons, would lose their way home, with which they were 
perfectly familiar, and wander s(mietimes for hours in an aimless, distraught manner. 

On his first visit to Philadelphia, in 1824, Mr. Bascom met a man who had awakened 
a degree and quality of interest in the eastern cities unknown for three quarters of a 
century — a young Irishman, John Summerfield by name. Of slight build and delicate 
physique, he was yet able to accomplish prodigious labor, preaching constantly to 
vast congregations, which listened as if to the song of a seraph. His flute-like voice, 
soft, sweet, penetrating, touched the finest emotions by its almost unearthly music, 
while the saintly expression of his countenance, his attitudes and movements of per- 
fect grace, completed the irresistible charm of his personal presence. His discourses 
were for the most part the outgrowth of his study of Jay's "Morning and Evening 
Exercises," and kindred compositions, but he breathed into them the warm life of 
his own gentle and tender spirit, and, set off as they were by the child-like sim- 



JOHN SUMMERFIELD AND JOHN NEWLAND MAFFlf. 381 

plicity and persuasive unction of his manner, and delivered with a pleading earnest- 
ness and tremulous pathos, they melted all hearts, and won for him upon all hands 
the suffrage of affection mingled with veneration. Two men could scarce be more 
unlike than the fragile, almost angelic, young stranger from across the sea, and the 
robust, finely developed athlete, schooled in the canebrakes and forests of the West. 
Another Irishman was just then rising into great popularity, the distinguished and 
unfortunate John Newland Maffit. Below the middle heio-ht, because of his short 
legs, broad-shouldered and deep-chested — measuring, when I knew him, over fifty 
inches inside the arms — with a well-shaped head, the contour and impressiveness of 
which he strove to improve and increase by shaving the front and sides so as to give 
a higher and broader brow ; a face not remarkable except for a good eye and the dis- 
figurement of a hare-lip; and with a voice of rare compass and timbre which was 
skillfully used in song as well as speech; and a very white, well-shaped hand most 
dexterously emploj^ed, he had for many years a name and following such as have 
been acquired by few men. Stepping, it is said, from a tailor's bench in the modern 
Athens, he began his public ministrj' in New England, and in the quarter of a cen- 
tury that followed his first appearance in the pulpit, there were few cities or towns of 
the United States of that day in which he did not awaken the opposite moods of ad- 
miration and antagonism. Although moving on a far lower plane than either Sum- 
merfield or Bascom, he divided the popular interest with them, and drew as great 
crowds as either. Without Summerfield's child-like, centered piety, or Bascom's 
genius or intense earnestness, he had qualities of style, manner, voice, and magnet- 
ism, which gained for him a wider and more clamorous popularity than is possessed 
by almost any preacher of this time. He was never a student; in his sermons there 
was neither intellectual grasp nor depth of feeling; his rhetoric Avas meretricious, but 
dazzling to the general eye — all the more effective with the masses because offensive 
to the cultivated few — and coupled with a fatal facility of speech, he seemed to them a 
man of rare genius. He thoroughly understood what, for want of a better word, 
must be called "the business of a modern evangelist," and was a consummate master 
of the details insuring the success of a protracted meeting. His voice, not the organ- 
toned instrument of a great or rich nature, was like an accordion deftly played, run- 
ning through a wide range of notes, with many stops and variations, delighting and 
captivating the ears untrained to higher music. His faults were the product of his 
mercurial temperament and Celtic blood, brought into prominence hy his style of 
work, and were heavily visited ; while his abundant labors and great usefulness in the 



382 BASCOM DECLINES THE PKESIDEKCY OP' AUGUSTA COLLEGE! . 

behalf of thousands that others could not win to the truth, have been forgotten. I 
knew him well at the close of his life ; his sorrowful death from a literal breaking of 
the heart, produced by the relentless attacks of his enemies, took place while he was 
preaching for me in Mobile, and I cannot withhold the expression of pity and qual- 
ified regard and affection for this once celebrated but ill-starred man. 

Never was a man more free than Bascom from the pettiness of envy and jealousy 
toward his brethren; his hospitable heart welcomed with glowing warmth the virtues, 
talents, and usefulness of Summerfield, Maffit, and all other men, great or small, 
brought in contact with him, and, by foolish people, into comparison or competition. 
His sympathetic eye was quick to perceive every form and phase of goodness and ex- 
cellence, and while the meed of praise he gave them was unstinted, no man was more 
liberal or tolerant toward well-meaning stupidity. A warm regard soon arose be- 
tween Summerfield and Bascom, interrupted for a moment by a want of tact on one 
side and undue sensitiveness on the other; but a good understanding was soon re- 
established, and their hearty friendship was only ended by Summerfield' s early and 
deeply lamented death. A little before his own death he wrote: "Poor Mafiit has 
at last fallen a sacrifice to the demon of persecution." 

In the autumn of 1826, Mr. Bascom was appointed to Uniontown, Pa., at the west- 
ern foot of the Alleghanies, where it was intended to establish a Methodist college, 
of which, in the following year, he was elected President. He gave the indefatigable 
labor of three years to the attempted upbuilding of Madison College, but in vain. 
He then acted as the western agent for the American Colonization Society, traveling 
widely and speaking powerfully in its interest. In 1832 he was chosen Professor of 
Moral Science and Belles-Lettres in Augusta College, Ky., and although offered the 
presidency with the hearty approbation of Dr. Martin Enter, then at its head, steadil}^ 
declined the honor. His father's death occurred in the following year, upon 
which he took his step-mother and all his father's younger children under his roof. 

Although his coming to New York, Philadelphia, or Baltimore, was hailed by the 
acclaim of thousands, the enthusiasm attending his ministry was still greater in the 
West. lie nowhere appeared, however, to such advantage as at a camp-meeting. A 
beautiful grove of sugar-maples intermixed with trees of oak, hickory, and ash, 
yielding a grateful shade, the groups of canvas tents, clapboarded shanties, and log 
cabins, the rustic stand, altar, and benches, the glancing sunlight at play amid the 
leafy canopy, the motley throng of the innumerable multitude, the breath of the 
woodland breeze heard in the pauses of the hymns sung by countless voices, a wierd 



THE CAMP-MEETING AT NIGHT. 383 

accompaniment to the preacher's tones, combined to form a picturesque and har- 
monious environment for his sermons. But it was at nio;ht that the most maofical 
effects were produced — the waving ghire from heaped, blazing pine-knots on the 
fire-stands at the corners of the tent-surrounded space, the light from many lamps set 
in the tree branches, the ghostly moonshine shimmering through the leaves, a multi- 
tude which no man could number thronging the vast temple not made with hands, a 
sea of upturned faces, half revealed and half concealed by the shifting lights, every 
form rigid and forward bent to catch the faintest whisper, and every eye riveted on 
the preacher standing at the book-board. 

Below him, within the altar, w^ere gathered the venerable fathers and mothers in 
Israel; behind, in the ample stand, almost a conference of ministers. At the last 
sound of the horn he entered the stand with a hurried step, knelt for a few minutes 
in silent prayer, and then advanced to the front and took the hymn-book. The hymn 
was announced, and those nearest could hear the shaking of the book's leaves — so un- 
steady was his hand. The compressed, bloodless lips, the pallid cheeks, the sweat 
upon his brow, his jerky reading, bespoke his great but subdued agitation. One of 
the ministers, probably Brother Gunn, for many years called, in Kentucky, the 
sweet singer in Israel, "pitched the tune;" it was caught up by every voice, and 
broke upon the still night like the sound of many waters. The music calmed and 
cheered him, and the brief prayer that followed was simple, direct, earnest. Then 
came the reading of God's Word after the same manner. Another hymn followed, 
during which he sat bowed, his face buried in his hands. With forced composure he 
again stood behind the books, and in the breathless silence gave out the text. He 
was still nervous, at times hesitating, embarrassed, but quickly gathered headway, 
and the sentences came leaping from his lips at a rate of speed unparalleled. Mr. 
Calhoun, the most rapid of political speakers in my time, would, in his fiery deliver- 
ances to the Senate, enunciate at the rate of one hundred and eighty words to the 
minute, by the count of the reporters. Dr. Bascom spoke at the rate of from two 
hundred and fifty to three hundred words to the minute, sometimes rising, in his 
highest energy, to four hundred, yet every syllable distinctly heard.* 

The intense play of every faculty, whether physical or mental, can, therefore, be 
only dimly conceived. Arguments, illustrations, appeals, warnings, entreaties, re- 
bukes, promises, came rushing from his lips with the stupendous speed of a cataract. 

* Startling as this statement may appear, it was made to me by Dr. Bascom himself. He declared 
that he frequently read for half an hour at the rate of four hundred words a minute, and that the words 
had then been counted to verify the estimate. The fact sheds light upon his temperament. 



384 l"WO HOURS SERxMONS AND THEIR EP^FECTS. 

Criticism was disarmed, but the attention so absorbed as to be almost painful. The 
gestures were few but expressive, the voice not musical, but singularly distinct and 
far reaching, and in the transport of his excitement his dark eye burned Avith an 
almost intolerable splendor. His noble figure, above the middle height, his air of 
high command at such a moment, gave him a port and presence almost more than 
human. The reasoning and imaginative powers, under the sway of the most intense 
emotions, acted as one, and his torrent-like impetuosity carried his hearers along un- 
resisting, amazed, spell-bound. So far as I know, nothing like it has been heard in 
this country. At times the whole congregation would rise to their feet, not knoAving 
what they did, nor where they were. Writers may decry the spoken word, and 
sneeringly declare that the mission of the pulpit has ended, but until the world's end 
God's great Word will stand: "That by the foolishness of preaching it hath pleased 
Him to save them which believe." 

Bascom's preaching was like the sound of a trumpet, and, while the sermon lasted, 
men forgot everything, themselves, their surroundings, even the preacher, every- 
thing but the wonderful strains, and the unfathomable meaning they suggested. 
The preacher, too, had forgotten himself, and in a kind of ecstasy gave his vision 
voice, unconscious of criticism, applause, of aught but the mighty theme and the 
Master who had given him the message. What wonder, then, if at the close of the 
sermon, which lasted two hours, the people found it hard to recover the sense that 
they were in the leafy grove ; many of them scarce knew whether they were in the 
body or out of the body, but felt that they had been "caught up into paradise, and 
heard unspeakable words." After the excitement of that trance, it was long before 
the silent stars looked doivn on that ?nidtitude composed in sleep, and not a few un- 
closed eyes were greeted by the rising sun. The sermon dwelt in many a memory like 
the song which St. John heard, "the chorus of harping symphonies and sevenfold 
alleluias." Once his subject led him to describe the manifestations of God's wrath 
against sin. On the front bench sat a man prominent alike for his wealth, talents, 
influence, and wickedness. As the vivid pictures of the flood and of Sodom and 
Gomorrah passed before the congregation, deep horror froze the veins of this man, 
and he fell in a swoon, was carried from the church senseless, and, when he recov- 
ered, proved to be a raving maniac, and such he lived and died. At another time 
Basconi Avas preaching in a large country church on a bright Sunday morning. The 
house Avas croAvded to its utmost capacity, the AvindoAvs Avere all open, one of which 
was immediately behind the pulpit, overlooking the rural grave-yard. He was 



MAfiSlED, AND ELECTED PRESIDENT OE THaNSYLVAJJIA COLLEGE. 3S5 

describing the typical forms and manifestations of the Holy Spirit. It was the bap- 
tism in Jordan, "and Jesus, when he was baptized, went up straightway out of the 
water: and lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God de- 
scending like a dove, and lighting upon him." As these words fell from the preach- 
er's lips, suddenly as an apparition, a snow-white dove flew through the open win- 
dow at the back of the pulpit, and rested on his shoulder. He paused, the bird sat 
for an instant with folded wings, then slowly spreading them, in the breathless silence 
described a circle around his head, and flew back to the summer woods.* 

At Saratoga, in 1838, he preached to a vast concourse in the open air, the wind 
directly in his teeth. The effort was too much even for his strength; his vocal 
chords were strained ; and for the rest of his life he suffered from what was called 
bronchitis, and was never again the equal of himself in earlier days. Up to this 
time he had never preached from memory nor a manuscript, but thenceforth used 
his notes, depending on them more and more to put a curb upon his vehemence, and 
thus save his weakened throat. As he did this, his power as a speaker lessened at a 
corresponding pace. He never again wielded the scepter of his regal eloquence. His 
infirmity made him self-conscious ; and self-consciousness denies access to the moun- 
tain summits of vision and inspiration. 

While Professor at Augusta College, he was married, in 1839, to Miss Van Antwerp, 
of New York, and two years later was elected President of Transylvania University, 
and removed to Lexington, Ky., where he resided for the rest of his life. In the 
ever-memorable General Conference of 1844, which sat in New York, and in which 
the Methodist Episcopal church was divided, he was a member, but, as at all other 
General Conferences, a silent one, except when, as the chairman of a committee, he 
had to read a report. Almost every other man on the floor, whether youno- or old, 
made a speech; but he, the most illustrious and powerful speaker of them all, held 
his peace. It was his pen, however, then and afterward, on which the Southern 
branch of the church relied to state its case to the world. When the first General 
Conference of that church met at Petersburg, Va., in 1846, it was thought, and 
justly thought, by his friends and by himself, that he ought to be elected a bishop. 
Eminent as were his services, and great as was the debt of gratitude due to him, 
both w^ere ignored, and he received another deep and painful wound from the hands 
of his brethren. He did not wish the office, nay, would have declined it, but felt 

*These incidents, as well as many other facts herein stated, I had from his own lips. 
25 



38() . BRICKS WITHOUT STRAW — EVEN WITHOUT CLAY. 

that he was entitled to an election as a vote of confidence, and as an indorsement to 
the world of his conduct in their behalf. Instead of a seat upon the bench of 
bishops, he was re-elected President of the University, made one of the Commis- 
sioners of the Church South to settle the matters at issue with the Methodist Epis- 
copal church, and editor of the "Southern Methodist Quarterly Review." 

There was no compunction in placing intolerable burdens upon his shoulders ; it 
was taken for granted that his strength was equal to any weight, that the magic of 
his name would crowd the halls of the university with students, and fill its empty 
exchequer; that as commissioner he could collect information from all quarters, 
write and publish the church's documents, and at the same time edit and publish a 
"Quarterly Review," without a cent of income provided. 

Take this statement of his remuneration while Professor at Augusta College, as 
another specimen of the manner in which he was paid for his services : At first his 
nominal salary was seven hundred dollars a year, afterward raised to a thousand ; but 
he never, in any year, received half his salary in cash, and seldom so much; for the 
last six sessions of his stay he got only one dollar in five of his salary in cash. He 
paid for the institution several hundred dollars in gifts, subscriptions and traveling 
expenses; also sixteen hundred dollars, paid by himself, for board, tuition, etc., in 
behalf of students, without funds, sent to his care. His expenses for eleven years 
exceeded his income from the college by five thousand dollars. It is not surprising, 
therefore, that he was embarrassed by debts ; but one finds it hard to understand 
how the church could suffer this noble and loyal son to struggle thus, and calmly 
expect him to make bricks without straw — even without clay. Chameleons are said 
to live on air ; it seems to have been thought that Bascom could do so likewise. Of 
course, many virtuous people, when they heard of his debts, shook their heads, 
shrugged their shoulders, and whispered, "Extravagance; what a pity he's not a 
good economist, and content to live as a Methodist preacher ought to." 

I have said that one rumor was put in circulation affecting his character and reputa- 
tion as a gentleman and minister. It happened on this wise : During the angry pres- 
idential contest of 1844, when James Knox Polk and Henry Clay were candidates 
for the first office within the gift of the people, a friend of Bascom's, living in New 
York, and knowing that he was on terms of close friendship with the Kentucky states- 
man, wrote a confidential letter asking Bascom about Mr. Clay's private character. 
With the understanding that his letter was also to be considered confidential, Bascom 
answered, telling what he believed and knew to be the truth about Mr. Clay, and in 



A CALUMN'Y WHICH RECOIJLEl) UPON' FIIS ASSAILANTS. ;^87 



pon- 



tile affectionate tone in which one friend would speak of another. The seal of cc 
fidence was broken, and parts of Bascom's letter found their way into print, arous- 
ing against him the fierce wrath of Mr. Clay's political opponents. The speakers 
and newspapers on that side held him up to public scorn, freely ventilating the epi- 
thets which seem so dear to the hearts of many politicians, and which made so laro-e 
a part of their patriotic stock in trade. Infamous charges were made against him in 
many newspapers, and from not a few "stumps." It was claimed that he had writ- 
ten an indecent letter to an old friend, and that that letter had been read by other 
members of the church, who thereupon lost confidence in his Christian character. 
Here are extracts from Bascom's answer, which prove, among other things, that he 
could use vio-orous English. 

"The article from the paper to which you direct my attention is a tissue of the 
most stupid falsehoods, and, so far as I am concerned, there is not one word of truth 
in it. I had been a minister of the Methodist Episcopal Church for at least eio-ht 
years, and as such filled some of the most important stations in the West, before Mr. 
Clay had ever seen me. Equall}' true is it, and Mr. Clay will attest it with more 
pleasure than I affirm it, that I never was indebted to Mr. Clay to the amount of a 
cent in my life, and my only obligations to him are on the score of friendship and 
good-will, to the utter exclusion of everything imph'ing either bounty or patronage. 
And the other charges of the paper are equally false and defamatory, besides being too 
obviously absurd and malignant to do me any harm even where I am not known. 
That portion of the political press Avhich has stooped to the infamv of Iving and 
misrepresentation to injure a man who had not interfered with the rights and func- 
tions of the press in any form, and had merely exercised the right of private judg- 
ment on the question of social justice between man and man, has deprived itself of 
the power of injuring me, and, by a resort to such means, has superseded the neces- 
sity of even a defense on my part." 

The calumny recoiled upon his assailants, and he went on his way unscathed. 

In 1850 a volume of his sermons was published, fraught with interest for the peo- 
ple who knew and loved him, and had heard them from his lips; but affording to 
others scarce a hint of his power as a preacher. In truth, they were not sermons, 
only studies, the notes of material accumulated through nearly forty years, written 
at different times, in many places, in blue ink, black, and red, as well as pencil; 
thoughts, suggestions, associations, extracts from favorite writers; ore of the mind, 
unraolten, uncast, not the finished group in alto rilievo. The want of organic unity, 
at times even of coherence and congruity, is painfully manifest. When in the pulpit, 



388 ELECTED BISHOl^. 

his mind at white heat, he fused the matter of these discourses, and gave them living 
form, harmonious beauty, ahnost irresistible power ; but in the closet his efforts to 
do this were fruitless. Justice to his reputation demanded that they should not see 
the light, and he shrunk from the publication ; but the stern pressure of his embar- 
rassed finances drove him to it with a merciless force. The volume reached a sale of 
more than twenty thousand copies. In May, 1850, he was elected to be one of the 
bishops of the Church South, and at first thought of declining the ofGce; but the 
persuasion of friends and his own mature reflection led him to accept it, and he was 
ordained. It seemed as if the new position might re-establish him in the brilliant 
career of usefulness as a preacher, which the injury to his throat and his taking a pro- 
fessor's chair had obliged him to forego. What appeared to be the necessity of 
Methodism less than half a century ago, to man our new institutions of learning with 
the best preachers in the connection, has turned out a serious misfortune. The 
teacher and the preacher, like the poet, must be born, cannot be made by man's de- 
vice. -The qualities which fit a man to attain eminence in the pulpit often unfit him 
wholly for the professor's chair, and while the duties of the class-room may prove a 
capital novitiate for the professor, it is doubtful if many who have become illustrious 
in the sacred desk have been able to adapt themselves to the routine of college life; 
and it is almost certain that a majority of those who tried the experiment have sur- 
rendered a large part of their influence and authority as preachers. It must be 
deeply regretted that Dr. Bascom ever became a college don. Had he lived long 
enough, his friends believed that he would, in part at least, have regained his old as- 
icendency as the Apollos of American Methodism. 

With his accustomed promptitude he set his affairs in order to begin the duties of 
his new office, and, with his old courage, started to fulfill them. His first appointment 
was to hold the St. Louis Conference, at Independence, Mo., in July. Cholera was 
raging throughout the West, and he who voyaged upon the Ohio, Mississippi, and 
Missouri Rivers that season (there were no railways then), took his life in his hand. 
Bishop Bascom, conscious of the danger, quietly went to his work. The rivers were 
low and he was delayed on the way, and although starting in what seemed good time, 
onl}^ reached the Conference on the fourth day of its session. He preached to the 
edification and comfort of all who heard him, and presided with an impressive dignity 
and urbane grace which gave assurance of his distinguished fitness for the high place. 
On his way back he preached with great effect in a number of Missouri towns, but 
was ill when he reached St. Louis. It was Sunday morning; he was at once asked 



HIS LAST SICKNESS AND DEATH. 389 

to preach, declined on the score of his ilhiess, but after a moment said: "If you will 
get a congregation, I will, with God's help, preach this afternoon — it may be my last 
opportunity." That was the last congregation that ever hung spell-bound on his 
lips. He reached Louisville a few days later, started for Lexington, his home; but 
after an hour's drive was obliged to return, went to bed, and never left it until, a few 
weeks later, his body w^as carried to the church, and then to the grave. When asked, 
toward the close, if his faith in Christ remained strong and serene, with his old em- 
phasis he answered, "Yes, yes, yes." On the morning of Sunday, September 8th, 
1850, about the time at which for so many years he had been used to enter the church 
of God to proclaim the truths of Christ crucified, his spirit entered the "o-eneral as- 
sembly and church of the first-born, which are written in heaven." He completed 
the fifty-fourth year of his age in the month that he was ordained a bishop, and in 
less than four months after ceased at once to work and live on earth. 

"Genius, sir!" said Dr. Johnson, "genius is labor." "Genius," said Buffon, 
"is patience." If these definitions be true, or even if a far larger meaning be given 
to the word. Dr. Bascom was a noteworthy man of genius. His temperament nar- 
row opportunities for improvement in early life, imperfect direction, adverse influ- 
ences, prescribed limitations which he, which no man, couhl pass. But what Cecil 
said of Sir Walter Kaleigh was equally true of him : "I know that he can toil terribly. 
He wrought, as few other men have done, to make himself a workman that needed 
not to be ashamed." His remarkable powers of conception, invention, sympathy, 
and utterance, were schooled with unwearied industry, and made tributary, not to his 
own advancement in worldly honor or emolument, but to his Master's cause, and the 
loyal service of that Master's church. We might almost fancy Bascom sittino- for both 
the portraits Clarendon has drawn of Hampden and Falkland. Of the first, he says: 
"Who was of an industry and vigilance not to be tired out or wearied by the most 
laborious, and of parts not to be improved on by the most subtle and sharp, and 
of a personal courage equal to his best parts;" and of the other: "Who was so 
severe an adorer of truth that he could as easily have given himself leave to steal 
as to dissemble." A loftier word yet gives us the kej^ to his character — "he en- 
dured as seeing Him who is invisible." 

The heroic days of Methodism produced few men more worthy to be held in re- 
membrance. In his life endless fame was predicted for him, so prodigal are we of 
the crowns with which we adorn our heroes. In thirty years his fame has shrunk to 
a tradition ; in half a century more he will be forgotten save by the student of Meth- 



390 WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON' S TRIBUTE TO THE "CIRCUIT-RIDERS." 

odist archives. What matter? "Had he not respect unto the recompense of the 
reward ? ' ' 

Trusting that, at no distant day, the dust of Henry Bidleman Bascom may be 
placed in the grounds of the A^anderbilt University at Nashville, I turn from his 
o-rave in the Louisville burying-ground and betake me again to my path, growing 
somewhat lonely now because so many of those with whom I once took sweet counsel 
have fallen by the way, he among the rest ; and as I muse upon ministers covetous 
of worldly fame, murmur in the darkness Tennyson's lines: 

"We pass, the path that each man trod 
Is dim, or will be dim with weeds. 
What fame is left for human deeds 
In endless age? It rests with God. 

"O, hollow wraith of dying fame, 

Fade wholly, while the soul exults, 
And self infolds the large results 
Of force that would have forged a name." 

That I have not exaggerated or shot wide of the mark in my estimate of these 
men, let the following extract of a letter from the late President William Henry 
Harrison, o-randfather of President Benjamin Harrison, whose long residence in the 
West entitled him to speak, bear witness: 

"Who and what are they? I answer, entirely composed of ministers who are 
technically denominated "Circuit-riders," a body of men who, for zeal and fidelity 
in the discharge of the duties they undertake, are nyt exceeded by any others in the 
world. I have been a witness of their conduct in the western country for nearlj^ 
forty years. They are men whom no labor tires, no scenes disgust, no danger 
frightens, in the discharge of their duty. To gain recruits for their Master's service, 
they sedulousl}^ seek out the victims of vice in the abode of misery and wretchedness. 
The vow of poverty is not taken by these men, but their conduct is precisely the 
same as it would have been had they taken one. Their stipulated pay is barely suf- 
ficient to enable them to perform the services assigned them. With much the larger 
portion, the horse which carries them is the only animated thing which they can call 
their own, and the contents of their valise, or saddle-bags, the sum total of their 
other earthly possessions. 

"If within the period I have mentioned, a traveler on the western frontier had met 
a stranger in some obscure way, or assiduously urging his course through the intri- 
cacies of a tangled forest, his appearance staid and sober, and his countenance indi- 
cating that he was in search of some object in which his feelings were deeply inter- 
ested, his apparel plain but entirely neat, and his little baggage adjusted with pecu- 



Emerson's definition of eloquence. 391 

liar compactness, he might be almost certain that that stranger was a Methodist 
preacher, hurrying on to perform his daily task of preaching to separate and distant 
congregations ; and should the same traveler, upon approaching some solitary, unfin- 
ished, and scarcely habitable cabin, hear the praises of the Creator chanted with 
peculiar melody, or the doctrines of the Saviour urged upon the attention of some 
six or eight individuals with the same energy and zeal that he had seen displayed in 
addresses to a crowded audience of a populous city, he might be certain, without in- 
quiry, that it was the voice of a Methodist minister." 

"Eloquence," said Mr. Emerson, "is the power to translate a truth into a language 
perfectly intelligible to a person to whom you speak. He who can persuade the 
worthy Mr. Dunderhead of any truth which Dunderhead does not see, must be a 
master of his art. Declamation is common, but such possession of thought as is here 
required, such practical chemistry as the conversion of a truth written in God's lan- 
guage, into a truth in Dunderhead's language, is one of the most beautiful and 
cogent weapons that are forged in the shop of the Divine Artificer." 



CHAPTER XVIL 



THKEE TYPICAL BACKWOODS PREACHERS. 



PETER CARTWRIGrHT. his character, voice, manner, appearance. power of his elo- 
quence. anecdotes of— "bring me a hatchet." CARTWRIGHT AND GENERAL JACKSON. 

ADDICTED TO WEARING GALLUSES. FORCES THE FERRYMAN TO PRAY. EARLY LIFE. 

LICENSED AS AN EXHORTER. ACHIEVEMENTS. A MUSCULAR CHRISTIAN. AT THE DANCE. 

PETER AKERS. personal appearance. early education. a free-tiiinker. con- 
version. settles at LEXINGTON, KY. REMOVES TO ILLINOIS. PRESIDENT OF M'KENDREE 

college. PRESIDING ELDER. HIS MODESTY. PECULIARITIES. A REMARKABLE PRAYER. 

REMOVES TO MINNESOTA. 

CHAUNCEY HOBART. personal appearance. "stranger, you must be president of the 

TRACK SOCIETY." EARLY LIFE. PIONEER EXPERIENCES. JOINS ILLINOIS CONFERENCE. 

his first CIRCUIT. A WATCH-NIGHT MEETING. TRAVELING EXPERIENCES. A FRONTIER 

JOURNEY. 

WELL do I remember the first time that I saw Peter Cartwright. The Sunday- 
succeeding our removal to theWest,we attended the Methodist church. It was a 
brio-ht June morning ; the place, the people, were all strange, and we felt the keen pang 
of loneliness more on that first day in our Father's house than at any other time. 
While sadly brooding over the dear old home far away, our attention was arrested by 
a strange apparition striding up the aisle. All seemed whispering, "There he goes," 
and all eyes were riveted upon a man of medium height, thick set, with enormous 
bone and muscle, and although his iron-gray hair and wrinkled brow told of the ad- 
vance of years, his step was still vigorous and firm. His face was bronzed by expos- 
ure to the weather ; he carried a white Quaker hat in his hand ; and his upper gar- 
ment was a furniture-calico dressing-gown, without wadding. The truant breeze 
seized this garment by its skirt, and lifting it to a level with his arm-pits, disclosed to 
the cono-regation a full view of the copperas-colored trousers and shirt of the divine 
— for he was a divine, and one worth a day's journey to see. 

He had been a backwoods preacher for nearly forty years, ranging the country 
Irpm the Lakes to the Gulf, and from the AUeghanies to the Mississippi. He was 

392 



HIS CHARACTER. 393 

inured to every form of hardship, and had looked cahnly at peril of every kind— the 
tomahawk of the Indian, the spring of the panther, the hug of the bear, the sweep of 
the tornado, the rush of the swollen torrents, and the fearful chasm of the earthquake. 
He had lain in the canebrake, had made his bed upon the snow of the prairie and on 
the oozy soil of the swamp, and had wandered hunger-bitten amid the solitude of 
mountains. He had been in jeopardy among robbers, and in danger from des- 
peradoes who had sworn to take his life. He had preached in the cabin of the slave 
and in the mansion of the master ; to the Indians and to the men of the border. He 
had taken his life in his hand and ridden in the path of the whizzing bullets, that he 
might proclaim peace. He had stood on the outskirts of civilization, and welcomed 
the first comers to the woods and prairies. At the command of Him who said, "Go 
into all the world," he had roamed through the wilderness; as a disciple of the man 
who said '*The world is my parish," his travels had equaled the limits of an empire. 
All this he had done without hope of fee or reward ; not to enrich himself or his 
posterity, but as a preacher of righteousness in the service of God and of his fellow- 
men. Everywhere he had confronted wickedness, and rebuked it; every form of 
vice had shrunk abashed from his irresistible sarcasm and ridicule, or quivered be- 
neath the fiery look of his indignant invective. 

In him the character of the Christian minister mi<>ht have had a somewhat exao-o-er- 
ated infusion of the frontiersman's traits. The whole line of his conduct may not have 
been marked by the spirit of meekness, or guided by infallible wisdom; but let those 
who have been tried as he was, and have overcome as he did, be the first to throw 
the stone of censure at him. Many a son of Anak has been leveled in the dust by 
his sledge-like fist ; and when the blind fury of his assailants urged them headlong 
into personal conflict with him, his agility, strength, and resolution gave them cause 
for bitter repentance. Another Gideon, he more than once led a handful of 
the faithful against the armies of the aliens who were desecrating the place of wor- 
ship and threatening to abolish religious services, and put them to inglorious flight. 
But he only girded on his strength thus, and used the weapons that nature gave him, 
when necessity and the law of self-defense seemed to admit of no escape. The 
vocation in which he gloried was that of an itinerant preacher, his congenial sphere 
that of a pastor in the woods. To breathe the words of hope into the ear of the dying, 
and to minister solace to the survivors ; to take little children into his arms and bless 
them ; to feed the flock over which the Holy Ghost had made him an overseer, and 
to warn the ungodly of the error of their ways, entreating them to be reconciled to 



394 HIS VOICE AND FIGURES OF SPEECH. 

God by the cross of Christ, was the business of his life. Learning he had none, but 
the keenest perceptions and the truest instincts enabled him to read human nature as 
men read a book; a sagacity rarely at fault, a vivid sympathy, and a powerful fancy 
that supplied the want of imagination — these, together with the dedication of his 
whole soul to his work, and a studious and prayerful acquaintance with the Holy 
Scriptures, made him a workman that needed not to be ashamed. 

A voice which, in his prime, was capable of almost every modulation, the earnest 
force and homely directness of his speech, and his power over the passions of the 
human heart, made him an orator to win and command the suffrages and sympathies 
of a western audience. And ever through the discourse came and went, and came 
again, a humor that was resistless, now broadening the features into a merry smile, 
and then softening the heart until tears stood in the eyes of all. His figures and 
illustrations were often grand, sometimes fantastic. Like all natives of a new coun- 
try, he spoke much in metaphors, and his were borrowed from the magnificent realm 
in which he lived. All forms of nature, save those of the sounding sea, were 
familiar to him, and Avere employed with the easy familiarity with which children 
use their toys. You might hear, in a single discourse, the thunder tread of a fright- 
ened herd of buffaloes as they rushed wildly across the prairie, the crash of the 
windrow as it fell smitten by the breath of the tempest, the piercing scream of the 
wild-cat as it scared the midnight forest, the majestic rhythm of the Mississippi as 
it harmonized the distant East and West, and united, bore their tributes to the far 
off ocean; the silvery flow of a mountain rivulet, the whisper of groves, and the 
jocund laughter of unnumbered prairie flowers, as they toyed in dalliance with the 
evening breeze. Thunder and lightning, fire and flood, seemed to be old acquaint- 
ances, and he spoke of them with the assured confidence of friendship. Another of 
the poet's attributes was his — the impulse and power to create his own language; 
and he Avas the best lexicon of western words, phrases, idioms, and proverbs, that I 
have ever met. 

Such was the man that now stood before us in the desk ; the famous Presiding 
Elder of Illinois — the renowned Peter Cartwright. One feature of his life I must 
not omit to mention — ^the fact that he sold more books than any other man ever did 
in a new country. The Methodist economy enjoined it as a duty on the preacher to 
diffuse a sound literature, and to place good books in the homes of the people. Un- 
wearied here, as in everything else that he believed to be his duty, this minister 
never traveled, if in a buggy, without a trunk, or if on horseback, without a pair of 



"BRING ME A HATCHET." 395 

saddlebags, crammed with books. These he disposed of with all diligence, and has 
thus entitled himself to the lasting gratitude of many a youth, who, but for him, 
might have slumbered on without intelligence or education. I have dwelt upon the 
character of this man, not only because I loved and revered him, but because I know 
of no one who may more fitly stand as the type of the pioneer preachers of the West. 
Perhaps my sketch may be rendered more complete by the following stories ; at all 
events, they illustrate the humorous side of his character. 

He was brought, some years ago, by business connected with the church, to the 
city of New York, where a room had been engaged for him at the Irving House, 
then one of the principal hotels. Reaching town late at night, he registered his 
name, and waited until the sleepy clerk cast a glance at the rather illegible scrawl, 
and at the farmer-like appearance of the man before him. The servant was directed 
to show the gentleman to his room, which, toiling up one flight of steps after an- 
other, Mr. Cartwright found was the first beneath the roof. The patronizing servant 
explained to the traveler the use of the various articles in the room, and said, on 
leaving, pointing to the bell-rope, "If you want anything, you can just pull that, 
and somebody will come up." 

The old gentleman waited until the servant had had time to descend, and then 
gave the rope a furious jerk. Up came the servant, bounding two, three steps at a 
time, and was amazed at the repl}"^ in answer to his, "What will you have, sir?" 
"How are you all coming on down below? It is such a ways from here to there, 
that a body can have no notion even of the weather where you are." The servant 
assured him that all was going on well, and was dismissed, but had scarcely reached 
the office before another strenuous pull at the bell was given. The bell at the City 
Hall had struck a fire alarm, and the firemen with their apparatus, were hurrying 
with confused noises along the street. 

"What's wanting, sir?" said the irritated servant. "What's all this hulla- 
balloo?" said the stranger. "Only a fire, sir." "Afire, sir," shouted the other; 
"do you want us all to be burned up?" knowing well enough the fire was not on the 
premises. 

The servant assured him of the distance of the conflagration, and again descended. 
A third furious pull at the bell, and the almost breathless servant again made his 
appearance at the door. 

"Bring me a hatchet," said the traveler, in a peremptory tone. "A hatchet, 
sir?" said the astonished servant. "Yes, a hatchet." "What for, sir?" "That's 
none of your business; go and fetch me a hatchet," 



396 A MAN AFTER GENERAL JACKSON 's OWN HEART. 

The servant descended, and informed the clerk that, in his private opinion, that 
old chap was crazy, and that he meant to commit suicide, or to kill some one in the 
house, for that he wanted a hatchet. 

The clerk, with some trepidation, ventured to the room, and having presented 
himself, said in his blandest tone, "I beg your pardon, sir, but what was it you 
wanted?" "A hatchet," said the imperious stranger. "A hatchet, sir? really — but 
what for?" said the other. "What for? Why, look here, stranger, you see I'm 
not accustomed to these big houses, and it's such a journey from this to where you 
are, that I thought I might get lost. Now, it is my custom when I am in a strange 
country, to blaze my way ; we cut notches in the trees, and call that blazing, and 
we can then always find our way back again ; so I thought if I had a hatchet, I'd just 
go out and blaze the corners from this to your place, and then I would be able to 
find my way back." "I beg your pardon," said the mystified clerk; *'but what's 
your name, sir? I could not read it very well on the book." "My name," replied 
the other — "certainly; my debts are all paid, and my will is made. My name is 
Peter Cartwright, at your service." "Oh, Mr. Cartwright," responded the other, 
"I beg you ten thousand pardons; we have a room for you, sir, on the second floor 
— the best room in the house. This way, if you please." "All right," said the old 
gentleman; "that's all I wanted." 

Shortly after the battle of New Orleans, a conference of Methodist preachers was 
held in Nashville, Tennessee, and my old friend, Peter Cartwright, was appointed to 
preach in one of the churches on Sunday evening. As he arose to announce his text, 
there was a stir in the crowded congregation, and he paused until the excitement 
should subside. The pastor of the church took advantage of the opportunity to pull 
the skirt of the preacher's coat and admonish him in a whisper, "Brother Cart- 
wright, you must be careful how you preach to-night, General Jackson has just come 
in." In a loud tone, Cartwright replied, "What do you suppose I care for General 
Jackson? If he don't repent of his sins, and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, he 
will die and be damned like any other sinner," and then proceeded with his sermon. 
The next morning (both rose with the lark), as the preacher passed the General's 
quarters in his morning stroll, a servant ran after him with the message that General 
Jackson wished to speak with him. Turning, his hand was grasped by the hero, 
Avho shook it heartily, saying, "Sir, you are a man after my own heart; if I had a 
regiment of men as brave as you, and you for the chaplain, I'd agree to conquer any 
country on earth," A strong friendship sprung up between these men, in whom 



GtflLTY OF WEARING ^'GALLtTSSES " 397 

Were many points of resemblance. Mr. Cartwright happened to travel a circuit near 
The Hermitage, and was often the General's guest. One Sunday the preacher had 
gone home from church with his friend and a number of visitors, to dine. Among 
other persons at table was a young Nashville lawyer, who desired to exhibit his wit 
at the expense of the backwoods preacher. Addressing him across the table, he 
said: "Mr. Cartwright, do you really believe in any such place as hell? I know you 
preach a great deal about it, and that's all very well, but I want your private opin- 
ion; you are certainly too intelligent a man to believe anything of the kind." The 
lake of lire and brimstone was a prominent article in the preacher's creed. As he 
paused an instant to consider how best to answer a fool according to his folly, Gen- 
eral Jackson, impetuously thumping the table with his knife, broke in, "Mr. Jones, 
I believe in a hell." "You, General Jackson," said the startled fledgling, "what 
possible use can you have for any such place?" "To put such infernal fools as you 
in, sir," thundered the infuriated host. 

In one of his early circuits, at a quarterly meeting, his presiding ekler, the re- 
nowned William M'Kendree, asked the customary question : "Are there any com- 
plaints against the preacher?" An old brother arose, and hitching up his nether 
garments, which had no support but his hips, and expectorating a mouthful of to- 
bacco juice into the fireplace, said, "Brother M'Kendree, that young preacher of 
ourn won't do for the work; he's not fitten." The young preacher flushed and 
grew pale by turns, his heart beating violently. The elder said, "Brother, what's the 
matter with Cartwright?" "He's given up to the pomps and vanities of this wicked 
world. Brother M'Kendree, I reckon you and the other brethren will hardly be- 
lieve me when I tell you that young man is such a slave of fashion that he wears 
gallusses" (^. e. suspenders). That night Cartwright was much comforted, on go- 
ing to bed in the same room with him, to find that Brother M'Kendree also wore 
gallusses. 

He once rode to a ferry upon the Sangamon River ; the country about was rather 
thickly settled, and he found a crowd of people at the ferry, which was a gathering 
place for discussing politics. The ferryman, a herculean fellow, was holding forth 
at the top of his voice about an old renegade, one Peter Cartwright, prefixing a good 
many adjectives to his name, and declaring that if he ever came that way he would 
drown him in the river. 

Cartwright, who was unknown to any one present, now coming up, said: "I want 
you to put me across." "You can wait till I am ready," said the ferryman. Cart- 
wright knew it was of no use to complain ; and the ferryman, when he had got through 



398 DUCKS THE TERRYMAN IN THE RIVER. 

with his speech, signified his readiness to take him over. The preacher rode his horse 
into the boat, and the ferryman commenced to push across. All Cartwright wanted 
was fair play; he wished to make a public exhibition of this man, and, moreover, 
was glad of an opportunity to state his principles. About half way over, therefore, 
throwing his bridle over the stake on one side of the boat, he told the ferryman to 
lay down his pole. "What's the matter?" asked the man. "Well," said he, "you 
have just been using my name improperly, and saying that if ever I came this way, 
you would drown me in the river. I'm going to give you a chance." "Are you 
Peter Cartwright?" "Yes." And the ferryman, nothing loth, pulled in his pole, 
and at it they went. They grappled in a minute, and Cartwright, being very agile 
as well as athletic, succeeded in catching him by the nape of the neck and the slack 
of his breeches, whirled him over and soused him in the tide, while the companions 
of the vanquished ferryman looked on, the distance ensuring fair play. Cartwright 
plunged him under again, and raising him, said, "I baptize thee in the name of the 
Devil, whose child thou art." He thus immersed him thrice, and then drawing him 
up again, inquired, "Did you ever pray?" "No," answered the ferryman, strang- 
ling and coughing in a pitiful manner. "Then it's time you did," said Cartwright; 
"I'll teach you: say, 'Our Father who art in Heaven.' " "I won't," said the fer- 
ryman. Down he went again. Then lifting him out, "Will you pray now?" The 
poor ferryman, nearly choked to death, wanted to gain time, and to consider. "Let 
me breathe and think," he said. "No," answered the relentless preacher, "I won't; 
I'll make you," and he immersed him again. At length he drew him out, and asked 
a third time, "Will you pray now?" "I will do anything," Avas the broken-spirited 
answer. So, Cartwright made him repeat the Lord's Prayer. "Now, let me up," 
demanded the unwilling convert. "No," said Cartwright, "not yet. Make me 
three promises; that you will repeat that prayer every morning and night; that 30U 
will put every Methodist minister across this ferry free of expense; and, that you 
will go to hear every one that preaches within five miles, henceforth." Cartwright 
raised him from the water, and laid him in the bottom of the boat, seized the pole, 
pushed the boat to the shore, and went on his way. The ferryman kept his promise, 
brought forth fruits meet for repentance, and in time joined the church and became 
a useful member. 

Cartwright was born in Amherst county, Virginia, in 1785, the son of a Revolu- 
tionary soldier; was taken to Kentucky by his parents a few years after, when they 
settled there; and was brought up in Logan county, in a district so wild, wicked, and 



KARLV LIFE. 



B99 



infested with desperadoes and refugee criminals, as to be popularly known in that 
region as "Rogue's Harbor." A strong, active, sharp-witted, jovial young fellow, 







PETER CARTWRIGHT. 



he grew up a horse-racer and gambler, in embryo at least, and went on until he was 
sixteen, in the high road to all vices of that rude and lawless period and community. 



400 ACHIEVEMENTS Of* A 6USY LIFE, 

Then he was suddenly converted, with one of the inexplicable convulsive changes 
which we hardly dare seek to analyze. He sold his race-horse, burned his cards, 
fasted and prayed, read the Bible, and after laboring under fearful anguish for 
months, at last, at one of the camp-meetings held in consequence of the great gath- 
ering at Cane Ridge, found peace in believing, by another revulsion as sudden as that 
which had plunged him into an agony of remorse and dread three months before. 

Cartwright was licensed as an exhorter in 1802, and as a preacher six years after- 
ward. From that time, for more than sixty years, he was a steadfast and most 
efficient laborer in his chosen field. The brief summary which he gives in his 
autobiography — one of the most entertaining books ever written — of the totals of his 
work, maybe condensed as follows: His entire loss by non-receipt of the regular 
Methodist allowance — formerly eighty dollars a year, all over that sum to be handed 
to the church — and by robbery, casualties, etc., $6,000; extras received to offset 
against this, $2,000; amount of money given in charity, etc., $2,300; number re- 
ceived into the church, 10,000; number baptized, children and adults, 12,000; funer- 
al sermons preached, 500; total number of sermons preached, at least 14,600. 

The crowded years of this long and busy life Avere marked from week to week 
with the strangest occurrences, the natural results of the wild, unfettered thoughts 
and life of the West ; often most grotesque, and at first sight coarse, and even ridiculous, 
silly or absurd, to an eastern man; and yet requiring but a brief consideration to dis- 
cover how peculiarly fit and proper were the rough repartees and even the comical 
tricks, practical jokes, and ready physical force Avitli which this hardy soldier of the 
church militant upheld his authority, or silenced his opponents at camp-meetings, or 
in controversy with the ignorant fanatics, the deceivers, and the rabid sectarians of 
his rugged field. 

When a Baptist preacher was drawing off his converts, he drove him away by 
joining his band of believers in character of a Christian, and then at the place of 
immersion confounding him by suddenly leaving him the alternative of admitting 
him into the church unimmersed, or taking the responsibility of denying him Christ- 
ian fellowship unless re-baptized. 

His old-fashioned Methodist hatred for fashionable ornaments comes quaintly out 
in his stor}^ of a rich man who could not find peace in believing until he had torn off 
his shirt rufiles and thrown them down in the straw at camp-meeting; after which, 
"in less than two minutes God blessed his soul, and he sprang to his feet, loudly 
praising God." 



A MUSCULAR CHRISTIAN. 401 

A ''book-learned" minister once tried to confound him by addressing him in 
Greek. With ready wit, he listened, as if intelligently, and replied at some length in 
the backwoods German which he had learned in his youth, and which the other 
took for Hebrew, and was confounded. And the old man proceeds to compare the 
educated preachers he had seen to a "gosling with the straddles." 

The camp-meetings were almost always infested by rowdies, who often organized un- 
der a captain, and did all in their power to break up the exercises by noise, personal 
violence, liquor-selling and drinking, riotous conduct, stealing horses and wagons, 
and all manner of annoyances. Once Cartwright blocked their game by appointino- 
their captain himself to the business of preserving order. Again, the captain of the 
rowdies was struck down among the "mourners," just as he had come quietly up to 
hang a string of frogs round the preacher's neck. Once he confronted their chief 
with a club, knocked him off his horse, and as his discouraged companions fled, 
secured him, and had him fined fifty dollars. Once he captured the whiskey which 
the rowdies were drinking, and when they came up at night to stone the preacher's 
tent, he had already been among them in disguise and learned their plan, and singly 
drove them all off with a sudden sharp volley of pebbles. 

Again, he sent a liquor-seller to jail for selling on the camp-ground, had himself 
and four bold friends summoned by the timid officer as a posse, and never left the 
culprit until he had paid fine and costs; and, when the enraged rowdies undertook 
to beat up the preacher's quarters at night, he drove off one of their leaders by hit- 
ting him a violent blow with "a chunk of fire," and another by a smart stroke on 
the head with a club, which drove out his "dispensation of mischief." At another 
time, he had himself and five stout men summoned by a frightened peace-officer, se- 
cured a whisky-seller who had been rescued by his fellows, then took the deputy- 
sheriff, who would have ordered the prisoner released, and seizing thirteen more of 
the mob, had them all fined, or made to give security on appeal. One more whisky 
dealer, who kept a loaded musket by him, the shrewd and fearless Cartwright secured 
by night in his own wagon, scared him handsomely, fired off his musket, threw away 
his powder, and drove him away, beaten and ashamed. 

Discussing doctrines with a boastful Baptist presbyter, he silenced him with a 
question witty and ingenious, whether its implication is true or not, viz: "If there 
are no children in hell, and all young children who die go to heaven, is not that 
church which has no children in it more like hell than heaven?" 
26 



402 THE DANCE. — PEACE OR WAR? 

Comino" to a new circuit, he found at his first appointment but one solitary hearer, 
and he a one-eyed man; but preached his very best to him for three-quarters of an 
hour. At his next coming, this hearer had so sounded his praises that he had a 
large attendance, and a great revival followed. 

When a certain woman used to disturb his class-meetings, he hoisted her out of 
doors by main force, and then held the door shut by standing with his back to it, 
while he went on with his exercises. When a fat and unbelieving old lady troubled 
him at camp-meeting by kicking her daughters as they knelt to pray among the 
"mourners," he caught her dexterously by the foot and tipped her over backward 
among the benches, where she bustled about a long time to get up, because of her 
size, while the victorious preacher went straight on with his exhorting. There was 
a dance at an inn where he stopped, and no room to sit in but the ball-room. A 
young girl politely asked him to dance with her. He led her out on the floor, and 
as the fiddler was about to strike up, said to the compaay that it was his custom to 
ask God's blessing on all undertakings, and he would do this now. Instantly drop- 
ping on his knees, he pulled his partner down too, and prayed until the fiddler fled in 
fright, and some of the dancers wept or cried for mercy ; then proceeded to exhort 
and sing hymns, and did not cease his labors until he had organized a Methodist 
church of thirty-two members, and made the landlord class-leader. 

A gray-haired old man, a Baptist, whose custom it was to do so, once interrupted 
the amusing stories he was dealing out to his congregation, by calling out sternlj^, 
*'Make us cry, make us cry; don't make us laugh." With equal sternness, and 
turning short and sharp upon him, Cartwright instantly answered, "I don't hold the 
puckering-strings of your mouths, and I want you to mind the negro's eleventh 
commandment, and that is, "Every man mind his own business." The abashed old 
man was silent. 

While Cartwright was candidate for the Legislature of Illinois, he sought out a 
man who had spread a slanderous story that he had tried to escape paying a note, by 
perjury. Finding him at a public place in a crowd, he told him to acknowledge his 
falsehood there and then, or he would "sweep the streets with him to his heart's 
content. ' ' 

The coward acknowledged his lie ; and if he had not, the fearless preacher would 
surely have chastised him, as he promised. While he was in the House, afterward, 
an enraged opponent threatened to knock him down if he finished a certain course of 
remark. Cartwright finished it, and when the House adjourned, marched straight 
up to him, and asked him if he was for peace or war? 



Appearance and early life op peter akers. 403 

His faithful wife, who for half a centiuy or more shared his privations and hard- 
ships without a murmur, in all things approving herself a help-meet, survived him 
some years. At a love-feast one Sunday morning she closed her testimony b}^ sayino-, 
"Brethren, I am now only waiting for my Master's chariot to come; I am ready to 
depart," and sat down. In a moment the preacher in charge saw a change pass over 
her face, went to her, took her hand, felt her pulse; she was dead. He said in a 
low voice, "The chariot has come and she has departed." 

PETER AKERS. 

I first heard Peter Akers preach when I was a boy of fifteen summers, at mv 
old home in Jacksonville, Illinois. On that day he crossed my father's thresh- 
old, and thenceforth for many years our house was his home whenever he came to 
town. He was then nearly fifty years of age, in the prime of his magnificent man- 
hood, as he continued to be both in body and mind for full twentj^ years longer. 

His height was not far from six feet, perhaps a little over; in the pulpit he looked 
seven, for his power made him grow upon the eye to enormous size. His frame was 
large, bon}^, muscular, with no undue flesh; arms and legs of unusual length. His 
head was very large, even for a man of his size, covered with wavy hair growing 
somewhat thin. The forehead was broad and high. The eyes usually had a far away 
look, except Avhen he was preaching; then they burned with an intense luster, or were 
filled with tears. His features were not handsome, but massive and noble, as was 
everything about him, both in appearance and manner, redeeming what would other- 
wise have been an awkward form and slouching gait, induing him with princely dig- 
nity. A man of more royal air iwid carriage, both in public and in private, could 
nowhere be seen. 

Peter Akers was born at or near Lynchburg, Va., on September 1st, 1790; had 
an academic but not collegiate training ; gained some knowledge of Latin and Greek, 
to which, I think, he added that of Hebrew in later years, but I doubt if his scholar- 
ship in these tongues ever amounted to much. He studied law, began its practice, 
was successful, and gave promise of reaching great eminence at the bar. I forget 
at what time he left Virginia and went to Kentuekv. He settled at Flemin^sburof, 
married, and had children, became the State's attorney, and, if I remember aright, 
edited a newswaper for a time. He was a "free-thinker" — an old euphemism for in- 
fidel. From his slumberous confidence and unbelief, and from his worldly ambition, 
God aroused him on the death of one of his children. In the depth of his grief and 



404 



"woe is me if I PREACH NOT THE GOSPEL.' 



despair, he discovered he had been building on the sand; after long and sore travail 
of soul he reached the rock, and found that the everlasting arms were around and un- 
derneath him. His conversion was thorough, and before long he felt, "woe is me, if 
I preach not the Gospel." He gave up the practice of law, his ambition, hope of 
worldly riches and honor, and entered the Kentucky Conference, in 1822 or 1823, 



iPEKEEB! 




REV. PETEU AKEKS. 



to endure without a murmur or regret, the privations and hardships inseparable from 
the laborious life of a Methodist traveling preacher in those years. His diligence in 
study as well as faithfulness in the fulfillment of all his duties, together with his rare 
powers of speech in exposition and argument, soon brought him to the front, even in 
that Conference, famed in those days for its array of distinguished men. 



A SHAKING OF THE DRY BONES. 405 

For a dozen years he filled the most important appointments in the Kentucky Con- 
ference (Lexington, Louisville, Danville, and other prominent places) ; was agent 
for Augusta College, the first institution of a high grade in learning established by 
the Methodists west of the Alleghanies ; was elected to the General Conference in 
1828, the first to which he was eligible, and afterward to that of 1832, when he was 
chosen to be the associate of Dr. John P. Durbiu, as assistant editor of the "Chris- 
tian Advocate and Journal." After a day's meditation, he declined the honor; for 
in the jDulpit, not with the pen, was he mighty, and he was wise enough to know it. 

When he was sent to Lexington, in 1826, his ofiicial members requested him to 
preach short sermons, and for a while he strove to oblige them, governing himself 
by the clock, leaving off just when himself and his hearers were becoming deeply 
interested in the discourse. Finding that his own spirit was growing lean and his 
ministry barren, he resolved to throw away the muzzle and to let his inspiration have 
sway, and on the first Sunday thereafter took for his subject Ezekiel's vision of the 
valley of dry bones, and as he preached it seemed as if the breath from the four 
winds came and blew upon the congregation, and there was a great noise; some 
screamed, some shouted, others fell prostrate on the floor, and there was such a 
shaking of the dry bones as Lexington had never witnessed before; and the 
preacher's time limit was removed. 

Hating slavery, he quitted Kentucky in 1832, removed to Illinois, and was trans- 
ferred to that Conference, which at that time embraced the whole State, as well as 
Wisconsin, Iowa, and Minnesota, which Avere not then even Territories, but the home 
of the Indians, with a few mission stations scattered among them. His character, 
talents, and power were soon recognized in prairie-land, and from that day forth he 
stood without a peer among his brethren in the Conference. In 1833, he was ap- 
pointed President of M'Kendree College, at Lebanon, and two 3'ears later founded a 
manual labor school at Ebenezer, near Jacksonville, and many years after was again 
placed at the head of M'Kendree; but academic life suited him no better than that 
on the tripod. His call was to preach the unsearchable riches, not to teach in col- 
legiate halls. 

Ten years after he settled in Illinois, Feburary, 1843, he and I made an early start 
one morning for a drive over a Avide prairie in the face of a cruel wintry wind, the 
ground covered with snow. I shivered Avith more than the cold, having a presenti- 
ment that something of the deepest interest Avas to take place. "William," said my 
companion after Ave had ridden a little way, and the rich tones of his deep voice 



406 AT THE FIRESIDES OF THE BACKWOODSMEN. 

thrilled me as he spoke, "do you not believe j^ou are called to preach?" In the con- 
versation which followed my heart was laid bare to him, and, as a result, on the 
first day of Ma}^ thereafter, I was mounted on a spirited 3'oung horse with the equip- 
ment of a backwoods Methodist preacher, trotting by the side of my venerated friend 
driving his buggy, for a round on the Springfield District, of which he was the pre- 
siding elder. For months we journeyed, ate, and slept together through a wide 
region embracing not far from a third of the present Conference. The country was 
new, and our stopping-places, save in a few towns, were for the most part log 
cabins, which rarely had more than two rooms, frequently but one, in which the 
family and guests were stowed away, and where many of the quarterly meetings 
were held. "Uncle Peter," as we fandliarly called him, although not the equal in 
wood-craft to our other Uncle Peter — Cartwright — was a good frontiersman, and 
when there were no roads over the wide prairies, could strike a bee-line for a point of 
timber, guide himself by the stars, and even keep the points of the compass pretty 
well in the driving snow-storm. The settlements were few, and we had long reaches 
where not a house was to be seen. The way was beguiled by the talk of my 
apostolic teacher, bringing forth from his treasury things new and old, instruction in 
the deep things of God and of his word, second in interest only to his preaching. 
The appointments were so arranged that we had service almost every day or night. 
The great preacher would stand, Bible in hand, by the side or in the front of the 
huge fire-place, and deliver discourses that would have honored cathedral churches, to 
the congregations of pioneer farmers, their wives and children, clad in homespun, 
crowded into the cabin and often around it. When the weather allowed, and the 
size of the congregation required it, he would stand at the door and preach to the 
people gathered in both the yard and house. As the summer came on there were 
camp-meetings every week, and there Peter Akers was seen to the best advantage. 
On Sunday morning the love-feast began at 8 o'clock, lasting until 11, when, after 
singing, prayer, and reading of the Scriptures, the sacrament of baptism was ad- 
ministered, and then followed the elder's sermon, and at its close came the holy 
communion, so that it was often between five and six o'clock before we had our first 
mouthful after breakfast, yet few, save children, had felt the need of food for the 
body, so rich and rare had been the soul's feast. The commanding presence, voice, 
and manner of the preacher, his gravity — nay, solemnity in eveiy part of the 
service — growing into intense earnestness as he made way in the sermon, his 
kindling face and beaming eyes, his forgetfulness of self, the yielding of the whole 



"THE COMMON PEOPLE HEARD HIM GLADLY." 407 

man to the influence of the truth and the insph'ation of the Holy Ghost, the mighty 
thoughts, the burning words, and by turns the melting moods in which preacher and 
hearers were alike bathed in tears — all this combination seemed to stay the wheels of 
time, and hours became as moments. At the time you could not dv^ell upon nor 
criticise the preacher's style or manner, his diction, gestures, rhetoric, oratory, so 
tight was the grasp with which he held you, so enthralling your interest in the theme. 
When you descended from the height to which he had carried you, which often 
seemed even to the third heaven, and you were again master of your faculties, at- 
tempting to use the critical sense, you found that his strength as a preacher lay not 
in his voice, logic, imagination, emotion — though he had all these in a high degree — 
but on the intellectual side in his grasp of the truth, clearness, force of statement, 
range and aptness of Biblical illustration, and use of Biblical words. 

In 1842, Bishop Ames, at that time Western Secretarj' of the Missionary Society, 
visited our Conference, and I asked him what he thought of Peter Akers' preach- 
ing. He answered: "It reminds me of Ajax throwing with ease great rocks which 
no other man could lift." You wondered how his massive thoughts, his lofty line 
of reasoning, mighty unfoldings of the deep things of the holy Scriptures (for al- 
most every sermon was an apocalypse, an uncovering of the mysteries), could hold 
as with a spell the plain, unlearned people of the border. If he had been merely an 
intellectual preacher, his failure would have been signal : there could have been no 
bond of sympathy between him and his hearers. His words must have been as a 
blare, signifying nothing; his ideas "garish gaudery," and the people's backs would 
have been turned upon him. But in him the red, yellow, and blue, the heat, light, 
and chemical rays were so combined that j'^ou had the harmony of the prism down 
to the violet; there was radiance, warmth, use, life. The beat of his heart prop- 
agated itself in the breasts of those that heard ; they saw with his eyes, heard with 
his ears, his soul became a part of theirs; they were lifted to his plane; his patri- 
mony in God, for the time at least, became their possession. Often it seemed as if 
he were transfigured; with shining face he translated the things unutterable into the 
speech of common life, and the simplest felt, believed, and knew; like the Master's, 
his words were spirit and life, and great as he was, the common people heard him 
gladly, forgot their meat and drink, and said: "It is good to be here." Wherever 
he went preaching the kingdom of God throughout Illinois in those years, it seemed 
as if the day of Pentecost had come again. It was not fine preaching, nor finished, 
nor rhetorical, nor logical, nor oratoi-ical, but it was in demonstration of the Spirit 



408 HIS MODESTY AND PECULIARITIES. 

and with power. I doubt if he ever wrote a sermon. I have often heard him preach 
from the same text, but never repeat a sermon ; the gold was the same, and his store 
of it seemed exhaustless, but every issue of the mint had a coinage of its own. 

His modesty was as noteworthy as his power; indeed, it was carried to such an ex- 
treme that it became a fault. In deliberative assemblies, where his voice and influence 
would have been potent, decisive, he was never heard. On the Conference floor he 
rarely opened his lips, except to answer the questions, and give the reports of the 
presiding elder ; and although he was a member of every General Conference for over 
forty years, I question if his voice was ever heard in debate; and yet, in the memor- 
able session of 1844, it was he who gave Rev. L. L. Hamline the form and body of 
the speech which made him a bishop, and fixed the line pursued by the Northern del- 
gates, and which ever since has been the accepted theory as to bishops in that branch 
of the church. 

In early and middle life he had been a diligent student in the best literature, but 
from the time I knew him he was a man of one book, reading little outside of God's 
Word and what would help him to understand it better. His knowledge of the Scrip- 
tures, and his power to use them, were unexampled. Their thoughts, images, realities, 
their very words, had taken possession of him, colored his whole mind, became the 
very substance of his being. He seemed to know the whole volume by heart, but 
St. Paul was his favorite among the saintly writers, and from his Epistles, as from 
an arsenal. Dr. Akers drew the chief weapons for his intellectual warfare. There 
must have been great spiritual likeness between the two men and in their inmost ex- 
periences. 

If I may venture to speak of the shortcomings of Dr. Akers's preaching, I should 
say they were two : a habit of using abstract terms and reasonings, and the too 
frequent indulgence in episodes running to a great length. And if it had not been 
for the white heat in which his sermons were created and delivered, they would at 
times have seemed forensic and interminable. If, instead of molding so many of his 
sermons on the plan of the Epistle to the Romans, he had fashioned them after the 
form of St. Paul's discourses written in the Acts of the Apostles, or, better still, had 
taken our Lord as a preacher for his prototype, and put the truths of the kingdom 
of God in the concrete shape, pictures and object lessons, oftener than he did, he 
would have been saved from his faults of style, and his deliverances would have 
dwelt longer in the memory of those who heard them. 

Whoever heard him unfold the meaning of a prayer in the third chapter of 
the Epistle to the Ephesians, or of the fifth chapter of the Romans, from 



A REMARKABLE PRAYER. 409 

the fifteenth verse to the close, or of the other memorable passao-es in the 
writings of the apostle to the Gentiles, could bear witness to the sympathetic 
insight of the preacher and his incomparable handling of the mighty themes ; but it 
was when he dealt with the stories of the Syrophenician woman, of the Samaritan 
Avoman at the well, and with other scenes in the life of our Lord, that he gained the 
highest level of his power, and left a permanent impression of the sermon as a whole 
not only in the recollection, but in the life. 

Here is an illustration of the effect on his backwoods hearers produced by the 
doctor's preaching: An impressionable and imaginative preacher of the early type 
had listened to one of his sermons on "The devil goeth about as a roaring lion, seek- 
ing whom he may devour," and at the close was called on to pray. He was so pro- 
foundly affected that as he knelt his body was bowed as if under the awful sense of 
danger, so that his head almost touched the floor, and he began in a tone low and 
tremulous with emotion: "O Lord, the devil, as a roaring lion, is in the neighbor- 
hood, in our houses, in the church, in our hearts; and if thou come not to our help, 
we shall all be devoured. Thou only canst save us; save us now, good Lord; with 
thy mighty power drive him out." The prayer grew more fervent, the tone firmer, 
the form of the man was lifted gradually till his head was erect, the hands clasped, 
tears streaming from his eyes, and at the end his manner was exultant and his voice 
almost a shout. He went on: "Drive him out, O Lord, from our hearts, our homes, 
from the church, the neighborhood; drive him into the brush till his mane and tail 
are so full of cockle-burrs that he can find no rest day nor night, and so be obliged to 
let us alone." 

In our hand-to-hand intercourse with the pioneer settlers of the West, as we 
stopped at their lowly cabins, we now and then had a bit of fun. This may stand as 
a specimen: One day, after our dinner of hog and hominy, corn-bread, and seed-tick 
coffee, the good woman of the house, a venerable dame, picked up two long-stemmed 
pipes from a corner of the huge fire-place; and, proceeding to fill them, said: 
"Brother Akers, have a pipe with me." "Thank you, sister," he answered, "I 
don't serve the devil that way." She replied, "Some people is powerful weak, and 
the devil seems to get away with them mighty easy," lighted her pipe, and poured 
forth a volume of smoke while we shook with laughter at her retort. 

For the two following stories, I am indebted to my old friend, the Rev. Dr. James 
Leaton, historian of the Illinois Conference, and, like myself, one of Uncle Peter's 
boys, whose carefully prepared sketch of Dr. Akers for the Conference I have been 
kindly permitted to I'ead in manuscript. 



410 A LIFE THAT WAS LIKE A JUNE DAY. 

"Once, on the Conference floor, at Bloomington, when the question of colportage 
as a means of circulating our books was being discussed, he humorously described 
the outfit and appearance of one of these itinerant book concerns, and recommended 
as a suitable motto for him the snail's declaration : ' Omnia mea mecum 'porto.' Once, 
in Kentucky, he was called on to marry a couple in the church, who insisted on having 
a marriage sermon preached before the ceremony was performed. He took for his 
text the saying of Naomi to Euth: 'Sit still, my daughter, until thou know how the 
matter will fall: for the man will not be at rest until he have finished the thing this 
day.'" 

In 1857, at the close of his second term as President of M'Kendree College, his 
health having suffered, he removed to Minnesota, and spent eight years in the brac- 
ino; climate of Red Wina; and its neighborhood, doing much effective work there. 
His brethren in Illinois felt that he belonged to them, and in 1863 requested that his 
name be placed on their minutes as a member of the Conference, and two years later 
he obeyed the impulse of his heart and returned to Jacksonville, where his friends 
presented him a house, the home of his remaining years. 

Up to 1871 he traveled as presiding elder two of the districts he knew so Avell ; and 
then, at the age of eighty-one, took his place in the list of superannuated preachers. 
At an earlier day he spent some years in the composition of a volume on the chro- 
nology of the Bible, his only published work, so far as I know; but as I have never 
read the book, it must pass unnoticed here. 

The life of Peter Akers was like a day in June, "when if ever come perfect days," 
the sun of his activity remaining long above the horizon, and after it had set, the twi- 
lio-ht gently deepened into the night, when in his ninety-sixth year he entered into 
rest. 

In the years of his laborious ministry he had taken no thought for the morrow, 
but sought the kingdom of God and his righteousness, daring to trust his master's 
promise, and it was fulfilled to the letter. He wanted for nothing. How the food 
and raiment came, I can hardly tell. A perfect wife ministered to him in his declin- 
ino- years, and closed his eyes at the last. It was pathetic to see the venerable man 
makino- his way every Sunday morning to the Centenary Church, Jacksonville, tak- 
ino- his place in the congregation, and listening with reverent attention to the Avord 
preached by men who in his presence felt how small they were ; and then in the af- 
ternoon to find him in the Sunday-school, a teacher, and sometimes a scholar in the 
Bible class, 



PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF CHAUNCEY HOBART. 411 

More than once in those years,when near death, it seemed to him that the spiritual 
world was opened and that its blessed people came about and conversed with him. 
For sixty years he dwelt in the land of Beulah, and it is not stran^Te that the shinincr 
ones came to him. Those who knew him as I did, in the meridian of his stren^rth I 
am sure will agree with me that the word which describes the effects of his ministry 
is fructification, fruit-bearing. They that win many to righteousness shall shine as 
the stars, forever and ever. Among the preachers I have known, his radiance is like 
that of the pole-star, bright beyond all others. 

CHAUNCEY HOBART. 

As one looks back upon them "foreshortened in the track of time," those were 
bright and pleasant days which we had in the old Illinois Conference nine and forty 
years ago, when I first knew Chauncey Hobart. At the session held at Quincy, in 
September, 1843, presided over by Bishop James O. Andrew, I was a boy of twenty 
years of age, coming up to be admitted on trial. It was then that I met him for the 
first time. He must have stood not far from six feet in his stockings, althouo-h there 
was a slight stoop of the shoulders. His frame was wiry rather than robust; his 
head, almost massive, covered by luxuriant dark hair; the forehead broad hioh and 
noble; his eyes beamed upon you with the light of intellect and hearty kindness, and 
his face was singularly winning in its expression; the mouth was unusually laro-e ; 
and his voice, although not trained, was exceedingly agreeable to the ear, both in 
conversation and public speech, at times melodious and far-reachino-. His hands and 
feet were large, the latter covering so great an amount of territory that once, when 
stopping at the shop of a wayside cobbler to get his boots mended, a passino- back- 
woodsman, after gazing in astonishment at his stockinged feet, cried out: "Strano-er 
you must be the President of the Track Society." 

He was appointed that year to Jacksonville, where my father lived. My circuit 
was in the adjoining county, and as I was often at home, and as Chauncey every now 
and then would come to spend some days on the circuit with me, there grew up be- 
tween us the relation of an older and younger brother. 

I owe to few men so large a debt of gratitude as that which is due to him, for he 
was the first and most beloved professor in my Theological Seminary of "Brush Col- 
lege." I had been much with Peter Cartwright and Peter Akers, but from the first 
little was to be learned about the structure of a sermon, and a child miixht as well 
have tried to handle the rocks thrown by Ajax as for a beginner to adopt the methods 
of the other. 



412 



FROM VERMONT TO ILLINOIS. 



Chauncey and his twin brother, Norris, first saw the light in Vermont, in 1811, and 
were nurtured in a Methodist home. When they were ten years old, they started 
with their parents for the far West ; their wagon journey from the neighborhood of 
St. Albans, Yt., to the western side of Illmois, in what is called the "Military 
Tract" — including a stop of some time in Ohio — took eighteen months, during which 



iiliiiiiiita 










'iilii 




m 



liiiiiiiiii! 



Ill 



KKV. CHAUNCEV HOBAUT, 



the family had its first schooling in the discipline of frontier life. Late in the sum- 
mer of 1822, they reached the eastern side of Illinois, entering it not far from wdiere 
the town of Paris now stands, and where they were entertained by Col. Austin. 
Early in the morning after their arrival, Mr. Hobart, the father of the boys, walked 
out to overlook the land. He had heard that in it the farmer could plow a furrow 
six miles long without striking a tree, stone, or stump, and this to a Vermont farmer 



"NEXT DOOR TO SUNDOWN.'* 413 

seemed a paradise ; but here, on the edge of the grand prairie, he declared that a 
furrow could be made a hundred miles long without meeting an obstacle. The sea- 
like expanse, covered with long grass and spangled with flowers, filled him with 
rapture. 

From Col. Austin's it was a hundred miles to the next house west. Late in the 
evening they reached the Illinois River bottom, built a cabin in which to spend the 
winter; and then the father and Chauncey, taking one of their two wagons, went 
back many miles, and by helping in the harvest earned corn enough to give them 
bread through the winter and seed for the next spring. Mrs. Hobart and Norris 
then drove sixty miles to a horse-mill, where people were waiting with grist enouo-h 
to keep the miller busy three days ; but with the gallantry of Western men they 
stood back, telling the miller to grind hers first, and she returned home with a wagon 
load of meal. 

Late in February, 1823, they left their winter quarters, crossed the river on the 
ice, and after mounting the bluffs on the western side, soon reached the three quarter 
sections of land for which Mr. Hobart had bartered his New England house and farm./ 
In the speech of the country, the two cabins which they soon reared were "next door 
to sundown," for there was not a house between them and the Rocky Mountains. 
On that virgin soil all kinds of game, from bear to quail, was to be found "by thou- 
sands;" and rattlesnakes four feet long, and many other reptiles as deadly were 
equally abundant. 

Theirs were the first plows to break the soil in that part of the world. They 
planted corn in a "woods-lot," and got a hundred bushels to the acre; while in the 
prairie land which they broke they planted melons, pumpkins, and turnips, and had 
a large return. For nine years they did not taste fruit, but then their orchard began 
to bear. At first their neighbors and visitors were chiefl}'^ Kickapoo Indians. The 
boys learned woodcraft, and it stood them in good stead. 

It is said that the red-men recognize the bee as the pioneer of civilization ; and 
when the hum of the industrious little insect is heard, the Indians know that the 
knell of their dominion has tolled and that they must seek their himting-grounds in 
the farther west. Bees soon became so numerous near the Hobart settlement that 
from ten to sixteen swarms were found a day, aixl the jaeldof honey varied from one 
quart to thirty-six gallons a tree. Not only did the honey make a welcome addition 
to their fare, but it and the wax were shipped by canoe to St. Louis and exchanged 
for tea, coffee, sugar, salt, and other luxuries. 



414 STRUGGLING FOR A'S P^DLCATION. 

Other settlers came and planted their homes near the Hobarts, so that before long 
their was a neighborhood, Mrs. Hobart devoutly prayed that a preacher might be 
sent to them, and her prayer was answered. Late in the afternoon of a November 
day, in 1823, a stranger knocked at the door; a tall, gaunt man, clad in well-worn 
Kentucky jean, deer-skin moccasins, on his head a 'coon-skin cap, and in his hand a 
rifle. He was a Methodist local preacher, by name Levin Green. He and his brother- 
in-law, with their families, had come up the river from below St. Louis in canoes, 
and were looking for homes. They "squatted" near the Hobarts, and Mr. Green 
preached in their house once every two weeks. A Sunday-school was soon formed, 
and not long after a day-school in the winter months, and thus the means of grace 
and of education were at hand. 

Some years a day-school Avas carried on three months in the summer, in order to at- 
tend which, Chauncey and Norris plowed from four to eight in the morning, and from 
five to eight in the evening. Every new family settling within many miles was visited 
by Chauncey, not only to bid them welcome, but to borrow such books as they had 
brought, and the time that could be spared was given to devouring them ; and thus 
were laid the foundations of wide and accurate information. His thirst for knowl- 
edge was quenchless, and the habit formed under the roof of his thrifty and wise 
yankee father of turning every moment to account, fulfilled Mr. Wesley's rule: 
"Never be idle, never be triflingly emploj^ed." 

After a time they cut logs for rafts, shaved staves, and with the double cargo floated 
to St. Louis, and bartered the fruits of their toil for an ampler stock of comforts 
with which to supply their home. The boys became expert hunters, and loaded their 
puncheon table wnth venison, w^ild turkey, prairie chicken, and quail. They helped 
their father, whose trade w^as that of a carpenter, to build barns and mills, and, in 
short, turned their hands to whatever work was required on the frontier. The strict, 
consistent Methodist ways which the father and mother had brought from Vermont 
were not dropped nor in the least relaxed in the new country, and the boys grew up 
in an atmosphere of genial piety. After a few years, settlers came by scores and 
hundreds, and the country filled up rapidly. Not long after Levin Green's ministr}'^ 
began, the preacher on the Peoria Circuit, more than a hundred miles away, found 
them out and gave them an occasional appointment. Then came the renowned pre- 
siding elder, Peter Cartwright, after wdiich they had regular circuit preaching. 

From his earliest years Chauncey read his Bible and prayed earnestly every day, 
and grew up in the practice of religious duties. He took the keenest interest in 



CONVERTED UNDER THE PREACHING OF WILLIAM STRIBLING. 415 

preaching; and when revivals came, used every means to bring friends and stranf^ers 
to "the mourner's bench;" and when they were converted, his happiness was almost 
as great as theirs ; yet an unconquerable shyness kept hmi back from conversion, 
and he was a grown man before he made the great surrender and yielded his soul to 
Christ. This point was reached and the decision made under a sermon delivered by 
William C. Stribling, one of the most remarkable local preachers I liave known. He 
started as a traveling preacher in Kentuck}^, and was the contemporary of Bascora, 
Durbin, and Stamper, and was considered their peer. Bishop M'Kendree was fond 
of him, and used to take him as a companion in some of his long episcopal tours in 
the West on horseback. 

Stribling had some points in common with the famous Dominie Sampson. He was 
an all-devouring reader. His memory was prodigious, and it really seemed as if he 
carried away the entire contents of a book at a single reading, words and all. Poetry 
and great sermons especially stuck to him as feathers to tar, and almost unconscious 
of it, he delivered the most celebrated discourses in the language. Samuel Davies, 
the great preacher of Virginia in the middle of the last century, and the first Presi- 
dent of Nassau Hall College (now Princeton) was a prime favorite with Brother 
Stribling. The contents of Davies' three volumes were at his tongue's end; and 
when he was an old man, I have heard him pour them forth with an unction and 
power that seemed irresistible. Gaunt of figure, sallow of complexion, with a large 
mouth and deep-set eyes, his manner grave and earnest, his voice and its tones most 
peculiar, he arrested the attention of aii}^ congregation the moment he rose, and held 
it to the end. Such torrents of words I have never heard from the lips of a preacher, 
except from those of Dr. Bascom, who would utter from two hundred and fifty to 
three hundred a minute through a discourse two hours long. Dr. Punshon's speed 
of speech was not comparable to theirs. Stribling's vocabulary was peculiar, as were 
his appearance and manner. I heard him once give out a hymn, and, having an- 
nounced the page, he added: "The tune commonly known by the appellation of 
'Wrestling Jacob' may perhaps be appropriate on the present occasion." 

Chauncey Hobartand I, making an early start in one of our drives, reached Brother 
Stribling's gate, intending to breakfast with him. "On hospitable thoughts intent," 
he came to meet us, and, with a gleam of his elephantine humor, delivered the fol- 
lowing address in true sermonic style: "Brethren, how are you? Alight and allow 
me to conduct your quadruped through the orifice of the stabulatory department, in 
order that he may obtain somewhat of the herbiferous and graniferous wherewith 



416 BROTHER STRIBLING's REMARKABLE VOCABULARY. 

to sustain his strength, while ye yourselves shcall tarry until ye have partaken of ali- 
ment furnished by the females in the domicile; and, having attended to sanctimoni- 
ous exercises, go on your way rejoicing." 

Another of his speeches, over which we used to laugh, was delivered to an old man 
who was smoking a pipe in a room where Stribling sat: "Venerable sir, the affumiga- 
tion arising from the deleterious effluvia emanating from your tobaccoistic reservoir 
so abflustrates our atmospheric validity and so overshadows the organic power of our 
ocular that our apparite must shortly be effuscated, unless through the abundant 
suavity of your eminent politeness you will disembogue your illuminous tube of the 
stimulating and stermetatory ingredients that replenish its concavity." 

He never spoke of preaching, but used these euphuisms instead: "to pronounce, to 
signify, to hold forth, to deal in remarks." One is reminded of a description given 
me once by an enthusiastic admirer of what he called "an illustrious pulpit orator." 
"Daniel Webster," said my informant, "had a vocabulary of only about five thou- 
sand words; Shakespeare only about fifteen thousand; but this man has a vocabulary 
of nearly fifty thousand, and they are mostly of his own manufacture." I once spoke 
to Brother Stribling about his use of Davies, when he said: "I will confess to joii 
that I have frequently plowed with Davies's heifer." 

Bishop Kavanaugh, who pronounced Brother Stribling the most wonderful preacher 
he ever heard, used to tell this story: After Stribling located and was settled 
on a farm in Kentucky, he went one Sunday morning to a great camp-meeting; and 
notwithstanding there were thirty or forty other preachers on the ground, the pre- 
siding elder — I am not sure but it was the bishop himself — put him up to preach at 
11 o'clock. Few in the great congregation knew him, and as he stood before them, 
gaunt and unprepossessing, clad in blue cotton which had been washed so often that 
the color was almost lost, beginning the service with his nasal twang, there was 
general and great disappointment, and a disposition on the part of the people to 
leave their seats, and the questions passed from lip to lip: "Why couldn't we have 
had a decent preacher out of such a crowd?" "Who is this man?" Soon, how- 
ever, Stribling arrested their attention, held it for two hours, and preached what the 
bishop declared was the greatest sermon he had ever listened to. At the close a man 
came up and said to Stribling: "Have you any worse clothes than them? If so, I 
want you to come down and preach in my neighborhood, for I would like to see the 
people there thunderstruck." 

It was probably under one of these sermons or one of McChord's (a noted Kentucky 
preacher of seventy years ago) that Chauncey Hobart was awakened and brouclit to 



fME COIJfEftfiNCfi Af KUSHVILLE, ILL. 417 

make his decision for life and death. In due time Chauncey was appointed a class- 
leader, then as steward ; soon after received his license as an exhorter, then as a 
local preacher, and was recommended to be received as a traveling preacher in the 
Illinois Conference. His brother, Norris, was admitted at the same time. Mean- 
while they had both married and prospered as farmers. To gain time for at- 
tending Conference two days and other meetings, they used to plow by moonlight, 
and lost no opportunity to improve themselves by reading and study. 

Before reaching their majority, they had formed the plan of going to Texas, 
which was then a part of Mexico, but was becoming "Americanized," where they 
hoped by pluck and industry to win fortune and a name. The premature death of 
their father, however, defeated their purpose, as the care of the family was thrown 
upon them. Well and faithfully did they fulfill the pious duty of providing for their 
mother and the younger members of the family. 

Toughened by toil and exposure, schooled by the rough but fructifying experience 
of frontier life, the influence of which was ameliorated and exalted by their home 
life and the characters of their father and mother, having stolen time from sleep to 
read, study, and pray, inured by every species of hardship — even having seized as 
volunteers in the Black Hawk War, 1831, 1832 — they offered themselves to the 
Illinois Conference, and were received on trial in September, 1836. The Conference 
met at Eushville, a few miles from their home. Here is Chauncey 's account of it: 
"The preachers came from Green Bay, Lake Superior, St. Peter (Minn.), Prairie du 
Chien, Cairo, and Shawneetown, a glorious band of heroic men. John Clark, Salmon 
Stebbins, and Alfred Brunson were leadinsf the battle alons^ the northern frontier. 
Bartholomew Weed and Henry Summers took all of Iowa and a good share of North- 
west Illinois and Southwest Wisconsin in their districts, while Charles Holliday, 
Samuel H. Thompson, John Dew, John Van Cleve, Asahel E. Phelps, Peter Cart- 
wright, and Peter Akers were marshaling grandly the hosts of the Lord in their great 
fields. The business sessions of the Conference were held in the church at Eush- 
ville, while the public religious services and preaching were conducted at a camp- 
ground a mile away. As we had a large tent on the camp-ground, and old friends 
by the hundreds to care for, I could see but little of the Conference save what was 
to be seen, enjoyed, and heard on the ground. . . . On Monday evening Peter 
E. Borein delivered a missionary address, the fame of which resounded through 
Illinois and the adjoining States for many a year. What John Summerfield was in 
27 



418 THE CIRCUIT IN THE * 'BLACK HAWK PtfRCttASE.'* 

the East, flaming with eloquence and holy zeal, was Peter K. Borein in the West, dur- 
ing the five years preceding his death." 

One effect of his speech that night was a collection of three thousand dollars, 
which, taking into account the means of the people, was equal to what a collection of 
fifty or a hundred thousand dollars would be in one of our rich city churches to-day. 
Chauncey and Norris were appointed to circuits in Iowa, and between them had the 
pastoral care of all the people in that new territory. Chauncey's range lay along the 
Mississippi River a hundred miles or more, and as far back as settlers had penetrated. 
There was not a church, parsonage, steward, nor official member, save one class- 
leader, in all the wide district. The brothers left their wives behind in Chauncey's 
house, and together started for their mission fields. At Burlington they separated, 
Norris riding west and Chauncey north, to look after the few scattered sheep in the 
wilderness; struggling through swamps, swimming rivers, threading his way across 
trackless prairies, where onl}^ a frontiersman's trained faculties, tact, and endurance 
could serve to guide, crossing the Mississippi in a frail skiff when the ice was run- 
ning, he gathered the people together, preached, organized classes, formed societies, 
and as a wise and faithful master- workman, used all that in him lay to further the in- 
tellectual and spiritual interests of new-comers to the "Black Hawk Purchase," as 
Iowa was then called. The drill he underwent that year to fit him for membership 
in the "saddle-bags brigade" was severe and testing, but he endured hardness as a 
good soldier. There were few roads in the country, no bridges ; his journeys took 
him over pathless tracts where a white man had never gone before, and he claimed 
the honor not only of preaching the first sermon in many neighborhoods, but also of 
laying out more new roads in that part of the country than any man before or since. 

At the Conference held in the autumn of 1837, Chauncey was appointed, with Rev. 
T. M. Kirkpatrick as colleague, to Knox Circuit, which had a girth of two hundred 
and fifty miles, and included Knox and Warren counties, and a part of Fulton, 111. 
Their first work was to find a house in which to live. This was a part of the preach- 
er's business, as the stewards had done nothing toward procuring a house, and, in- 
deed, felt under no obligation to do so. The only available shelter was an unfinished 
log cabin sixteen feet square, half a mile east of Pierce's Grove. It was half floored 
with puncheons, and the chimney half built. It was the best that could be found, 
and Brother Kirkpatrick,wife, and three children, Chauncey and wife, moved into it. 
The neighbors turned out and assisted in finishing the floor and chimney, covered a 
log pen with hay for a stable, and they were settled for the winter. 



WHY HE FAILED TO KEEP HIS AI'I'OINTMENT. 419 

Here is Chauncey's account of a watch-night meeting: "After a prayer-meeting 
of about an hour and a half, I requested Brother Kirkpatrick to preach about thirty 
minutes, but he had only been talking about fifteen when there came over him such 
a wave of power that he lost his strength and fell to the floor, while the joyful shouts 
of the Christians and the cries of the penitent filled the house. The interest and 
power of the meeting increased. Another sermon was preached, followed by a con- 
tinuation of the prayer-meeting, then an hour of testimony, when, at 11:55 p. m., 
on our knees, in solemn, silent, prayerful consecration to God, we closed the year 
1837 and entered upon 1838. At this meeting several were converted, and the 
power of the Holy Spirit was manifestly present." 

Here is one of his experiences of a different kind. About the middle of January, 
on his way to an appointment, he had to cross Haw Creek. Snow and cold weather 
had been followed by a thaw and heavy rains, and he found the creek to be two hun- 
dred feet wide, twenty-five feet deep, and the water rushing with a swift current. 
After some thought and a prayer for guidance, he determined to swim, or at least 
attempt it. Placing his saddlebags on his shoulder, he rode in. His mare took the 
water well and swam about half way over, when she either caught her foot in the 
girth or in some other way became entangled, and sank. Chauncey remained in his 
seat until the water came up to his arms and floated him off. Seeing he must swim, 
he put his hand against the horse's head, pushed her away as far as possible, then 
struck out for the shore. After having almost gained the shore, he looked around and 
saw that his mare had risen and was swimminof back. He turned and swam after 
her. On reaching land, he found that his saddle and saddlebags were left in the 
creek, and that his mare had gone off at top speed. Fortunately, he soon saw the 
saddlebags lodged on a bush, and by Avading, regained them. His Bible, hymn book, 
a volume of Dick's works, and one of Rollins's "Ancient Histor}^" Avere sadly 
damaged, and he spread them out on the grass to dry. Ere long he was gladdened 
by the sight of the mare mounted by a young man, coming on the run to see whether 
ho had been drowned. Returning home with him, he dried his clothes a little, ate 
some dinner, and by a circuitous route found a ford and crossed the creek. He 
reached his preaching-place about 5 p. m., six hours late. Great was his regret, for 
it was well-nigh the only time in his long ministerial life that he failed to keep his 
appointment. 

In the next year, while traveling the Macomb Circuit, he had a severe attack of 
bilious fever, Avhich nearly proved fatal. After the crisis Avas passed, he had this 



420 ''WHETHER m THE BODY OR OUT OE THE BODY, 1 KNOW NOT.'* 

experience: "During my illness, and until after the crisis, my faith had been un- 
wavering; calmness and peace had filled my soul during all my conscious hours. 
As I began slowly to recover, my desire and longing for a pure heart returned. 
About 3 o'clock one morning, while all in the house except myself were asleep, I 
was engaged in thanksgiving to God for his loving kindness and mercy in thus re- 
storing me to prospective health and to my work. I was also rejoicing in the assur- 
ance that had I been called hence, it would have been to be forever with my Lord. 
Then, all at once, I began to feel that I could adopt the language of Paul and say: 
'Whether in the body or out of the body, I know not; God knoweth.' A mighty 
blessing had come. It came in unutterable fullness, like the vast tide of a mighty 
ocean, filling and thrilling my soul with the conscious presence of the Lord of life 
and glory. I seemed to be lifted up above earth and earthly things until I was near 
to the land of life. Sun, moon, and stars seemed under my feet, the glory and 
effulgence of eternal bliss were all around me. To the praise of God's grace, I 
acknowledge that I had not the least idea before, that it was possible for a soul in the 
body to be so ecstatically happy as I then was. I remained in this blissful state 
about two hours, when I returned to earth again — but not as I went. My experience 
was far deeper and richer and sweeter than before. Like the food brought by the 
ravens to the prophet, that great baptism of love and power has not only lasted me 
forty days, but over forty years, and it grows clearer and steadier as I behold, not 
far off, the spires of the celestial city. Since that blessed morning, amid the lights 
and shades and sorrows of ordinary life and the toils and trials of an itinerant, I have 
never doubted the genuineness of my conversion nor the power of Christ to save to 
the uttermost." 

In the following years he ministered in the churches at Quincy, Rushville, and 
Peoria; and in all made full proof of his ministry by earnestness, fidelity, and ever 
increasing intellectual preaching and spiritual power. This brings us to the point 
where I first knew him. Jacksonville was then called "The Athens of the West," 
and with the modesty characteristic of Western towns, it has not yet surrendered its 
claim to that distinction. Chauncey was humble-minded, and, while manly and 
courageous to the last degree, never quailing in the face of any danger, he shrunk 
from the appointment to this town with a literary reputation. Yet his habit as a 
Methodist preacher was that of unquestioning obedience to his fathers in the church, 
and he entered upon his work in this trying field, although with many misgivings. 
It is but justice to say that that church, as well as all the others to which he had 



THE METTLE OF A TRUE HERO. 421 

been sent, was never more admirably served, as well in the social meetings, pas- 
toral visitings, administration of discipline, as in the pulpit. His reading did not 
take a wide range, but was careful and thorough ; he mastered every book he under- 
took, and made its contents his own. His preaching showed ample and conscien- 
tious preparation, and that it was the fruit of study, reflection, and his own ex- 
perience of the deep things of God and the soul. He thirsted for improvement of 
mind, manner, and the wise use of the best matter; but his intensest zeal was for the 
conversion of men to the truth, and that their lives and conversation should be conformed 
to the words and example of Christ. Always instructive and interesting in the 
pulpit, he often preached with amazing power. When he had "liberty," as the 
phrase was, or, to use a still more homely, but equally common expression at that 
day, "got hold of his sugar-stick," you heard eloquence of a rare and impressive 
kind. His talk in private was delightful, abounding in humorous stories of Western 
life and character, drawn from his own observation, and in anecdotes of all the noted 
men of the church, as well as rich in graver matters. Such a man was a godsend to 
me. With boundless generosity he made me a sharer in all the gatherings of his 
life and the hard-won harvests of his toil. No professor of homilectics was ever 
more unwearied in his exertions in the class-room than Chauncey Hobart was with 
me in our long rides or drives through groves and over prairies, in the log-cabins of 
my circuit, or by my father's fireside; and my instruction came from the lips of a 
workman that needed not to be ashamed. In my eager quest of information as to 
the best method of constructing sermons, he never treated me as a noted Western 
preacher treated a young man bent on obtaining the same kind of help. After a 
somewhat dry and hard answer to the junior's inquiry, the senior added, making a 
sly thrust at the other's style of doing things: "If I got into the brush, I'd tell my 
experience, cry, shout, and wind up by calling for mourners." 

Chauncey had the mettle of a true hero. You never heard him talk of his sacri- 
fices and privations in undertaking and carrying on the work of a preacher on the bor- 
der. He made light of the hardships and sufferings endured in the Master's ser- 
vice, and used to speak with a mixture of mirth and pity of the attempts which some 
men made to gain praise and pence by narrating their exploits and sufferings, as if 
stemming the current of the Mississippi on flatboats, camping out at night, swimming 
creeks and rivers, living on scant fare and hard, entitled a man to the crown of saint 
or martyr ; did not every hunter and trapper on the frontier endure aU this and more, 
for the sake of a few muskrat and beaver skins. 



422 LIFE IN THE CITY DID NOT SUIT HIM. 

Samuel Bradburn, one of Mr. Wesley's preachers, and called the Demosthenes of 
his time, once heard some of the brethren descanting ujDon what they had given up, 
sacrificing their all, to become Methodist preachers ; and when he could bear it no 
longer, he exclaimed : "And I gave up two of the best awls in England and a seat on 
a cobbler's bench to be treated as a gentleman wherever I go, and to become an em- 
bassador for the Lord Jesus Christ." 

After two years in Jacksonville and one in Springfield, Chauncey was appointed, in 
the summer of 1846, to Clark Street Church, Chicago, where he saw for the first time 
a musical instrument, a choir, and rented seats, or pews, in a Methodist church; and 
felt very much as Bishop Simpson, in a speech in the General Conference of 1852, at 
Boston, said he felt, pointing to the pew-doors and quoting St. Paul's words before 
Agrippa: "Except these bonds." About the same time the venerable Dr. Thomas 
E. Bond, then editor of the "Christian Advocate," left the church he had been at- 
tending when an organ was put up in it, saying: "It is necessar}^ to draw the line 
somewhere." And he went to the old John Street Church, where they had neither 
organ nor pews. 

Although Chicago had only about twenty-eight thousand inhabitants when Chaun- 
cey Hobart was pastor of the Clark Street Church, he foresaw the future greatness 
of the city, and that it must become the distributing point for the Northwest, and 
was, therefore, earnest in his efforts that a branch of the Methodist Book Concern 
and a Methodist newspaper should be established there ; but his hopes on this head 
were not fulfilled until 1852. 

Life in the citj^ did not suit him ; he yearned for the larger liberty of the frontier, 
and joyfully exchanged the comfort and ease of the one for the hardships and toil of 
the other, when, in 1847, Bishop Waugh appointed him presiding elder of the Racine 
District, Wisconsin. Two years later, when Bishop Janes called for a volunteer to 
go to Minnesota, Chauncej^ offered himself, and Avas sent to that new country. His 
district embraced the whole of that new territory of Northwest Wisconsin, reaching 
from Prairie du Chien as far north as the settlements of the whites extended. Be- 
sides doing the work of a presiding elder through this vast district, he was preacher 
in charge of the church in St. Paul, chaplain of the territorial Legislature, built a 
brick church, and taught school one winter, and all parts of the work were well done. 
He comforted and inspired by word and example the little band of preachers scat- 
tered throughout that boundless region, founded societies, traveled and preached 
night and day, and by dauntless courage, uncomplaining endurance of privation and 



AND HE GLADLY RETURNED TO FRONTIER LIFE. 423 

suffering, faithfulness, zeal, tireless and cheerful toil, "made full proof of his minis- 
try." Here are some glimpses of the field, and his work in it. 

St. Paul had been known as "Pig's Eye," and as an Indian trading post for sev- 
eral 3^ears. At this point the Roman Catholics had built a little log chapel of tam- 
arack poles, and called it "St. Paul's," to distinguish it from a similar structure at 
Mendota, which was named "St. Peter's." This mud-daubed log chapel gave name 
to the village, which had been plotted about two years, and now contained about four 
hundred inhabitants. He found a class of twenty members and a small brick church 
begun, the walls of which were two or three feet high. A new hotel was just fitting 
up to accommodate the Legislature, which was about to meet, and the parlor was 
lent to him as a preaching-place. He began at once the building of the church and 
of a parsonage. His duties as chaplain of the Legislature did not interfere with his 
manifold other engagements. He raised money enough to secure the inclosing of the 
church, and one coat of plaster on its walls before the cold weather set in, so that 
with the heat from the stove the congregation could occupy it through the winter ; 
and, as there was but one school in the town, taught by a woman in a bark-covered 
cabin, the church was used as a second school-house, and Chauncey was appointed 
and became the first male teacher in Minnesota. 

In the following summer he had this taste of frontier life in getting from one 
quarterly meeting to another, five or six brethren bearing him company on foot. 
They plunged into the wilderness, which they knew to be a vast, dense, unbroken 
forest for the next one hundred miles, with nothing to guide them but the sun, the 
stars, and a pocket compass. They had provided rations for three days and a half, 
with four blankets, a small coffee-pot, two tin-cups, a hand-ax, a rifle, and a pair of 
saddlebags, and these in carrying were divided among them. On Tuesday night, 
after having traveled about fifteen miles, they camped in a deep ravine in a choke- 
cherry thicket just deserted by a company of bears, which they had evidently scared 
from feasting on cherries. The next day they traveled over a rough country, many 
of the hills being more than four hundred feet high. About noon they found shelter 
in a friendly cave, while a severe thunder-storm passed by. They camped that night 
in a deep ravine, and were thoroughly drenched about midnight, driven out of their 
beds of ferns to find shelter behind the large trees around them. About day-break 
the storm passed, and they soon had a rousing fire, dried their clothes, ate their break- 
fast, offered up their morning prayer, and pursued their journey. That day they fol- 
lowed down the ravine in which they had camped for about twelve miles, and at 11 



424 LOST IN THE FOREST OF WISCONSIN. 

o'clock came to Pine Kiver. Seeing sawdust in the stream, they concluded there 
must be a saw-mill near, and following up the river soon found Hazleton's mill, forty 
miles from the nearest settlement. Here they dined, and after obtaining some sup- 
plies, traveled on until sundown, when they camped on the broad ridge between Pine 
River and the Kickapoo. 

On Friday they journeyed on all day and camped at night in the Kickapoo bot- 
tom. That night they supped on slippery elm bark and bass-wood buds, having then 
less than a cubic inch of pork per man left for breakfast. They committed them- 
selves to the care of their heavenly Father, and slept soundly. Saturday morning 
they ate their small piece of meat, had their worship as a family, and trudged on, 
soon coming to the Kickajjoo, which they crossed as Adam and Eve may be sup- 
posed to have crossed the Hiddekel, excepting only that they managed to get their 
clothes tied up in bundles and flung them on the other bank. Then crossing the 
bottom, they climbed up a steep hill, almost immediately climbed down again, and 
found not long after a broad wagon-road. This they gladly followed, supposing that 
it would lead them to the settlement. However, after following it about ten miles, 
they found that it was leading them out of their course, and so turned due west. 
Journeying on wearily down a valley, Chauncey discovered a porcupine climbing a 
tree. In advance of the others, who were lingering behind gathering some goose- 
berries, he ran up; throwing his hand-ax at him, missed, sent some clubs after him, 
but, as Pat said, "I hit him in the same place where I missed him before." After 
a few minutes, however, one of the party came up and shot the porcupine through 
the body. As he was dying slowly, and before he fell, Chauncey turned aiid saw 
one of his friends kindling a fire. The porcupine was quickly skinned, cut into seven 
pieces, and roasted on as many long sticks ; grace before meat was said, and the 
hungry men fell to with a will, and after their sumptuous repast, resumed their jour- 
ney cheerily. About 4 o'clock they found themselves in a Norwegian settlement 
twelve miles north of Round Prairie, having been led from their course by following 
the lumbermen's road in the morning. Obtaining some food, they hastened on, slept 
a few hours, and reached the camp-ground a little after sunrise on Sunday morning. 

Thus journeying, afoot, by birch-bark canoe, stage, wagon, ox-cart, buggy; some- 
times on steam-boats, and again on rafts or skiffs; and then on horseback; fording 
and swimming creeks and rivers; he preached the word in school-houses, in hotels, 
in private houses, in barns, in groves, and in saw-mills; in the lodges and council- 
houses of the Indians, and entered a pre-emption claim to the whole of that new coun- 
try in the namQ of his Master and of his church. 



FIFTY YEARS OF SELF-FORGETFULNESS. 425 

No word of complaint at hard work, hard fare, and small pay ever escaped from 
him. None of these things moved him ; neither did he comit his life dear unto him- 
self, so that he might finish his course with joy and the ministry which he had re- 
ceived of the Lord Jesus to testify the Gospel of the grace of God. 

It would be interesting, if my limit allowed, to follow my old friend through the 
rest of his active career as circuit-preacher, presiding elder, station-preacher, member 
of the General Conferences from 1852 to 1868, as chaplain in the army, and in the 
Christian commission in the time of the war ; but for further details I nmst refer my 
readers to his own naive and straightforward account of himself and his contempo- 
raries, given in his "Recollections," He wrought for nearly fifty years with un- 
wearied zeal, dauntless courage, and a spirit of sublime self-forgetfulness, in many 
fields as new and rough as those worked by the earlier fathers of the church, to win 
men from error and evil, and to reconcile them to God, that they might "obtain for- 
giveness of sins and an inheritance among them which are sanctified." His ministry 
has been crowned by the head of the church with the conversion of thousands — I 
had almost said of tens of thousands — of men and women to the cross of Christ. 
He has had much to do in laying deep and broad the foundations of the church in 
the wide Northwest, where no man went before him, and none has since surpassed 
him in thorough and faithful labor or in the lofty spirit of self-consecration. His 
patient endurance of hunger, cold, and weariness, his renunciation of the world and 
of himself, his fearless grapple with every kind of wrong, his indefatigable toil for 
the welfare of others, and withal the meek and quiet spirit which he has maintained 
throughout, entitle him to hold a high place in the illustrious band of pioneer 
preachers. 

I once heard the Rev. Richard Haney, one of Chauncey Hobart's contemporaries 
in Illinois, tell a bit of his experience. Early one morning he started to ride across 
a wide, unsettled prairie, hoping to reach a point of timber, where there were a few 
houses, thirty-five miles away, by sunset; but he was soon overtaken by a fierce and 
blinding snow-storm, and lost his reckoning. As the day wore on and the storm 
increased in fury, he gave himself up for lost, and committing his soul unto the 
hands of God, resigned himself to his fate, almost sure that a snow-drift would 
ere long be his winding-sheet. Chilled to the bone and hopeless of human succor, he 
gave the reins to his faithful horse, which plodded on through the ever-deepening 
snow-banks. Just before sunset the snow ceased, the wind lulled, the clouds dis- 
persed, and the sun shone out, and a little way off Haney saw a cabin ; and at its door 



426 IN SERENE FAITH AND HOPE AWAITING THE SUMMONS. 

a woman, her back toward him, sweeping the snow from the step, and in a sweet, 
strong voice singing a hymn. Benumbed and nearly starving as he was, Haney 
checked his horse to listen. "It seemed to me," he said, "a melody from heaven; 
on the instant my soul was unutterably full of glory and of God. Then and there I 
enlisted for the rest of the war, and drew my rations on the spot." 

Men with stuff like that in them, "who endured as seeing him who is invisible," 
were needed for the work of the frontier. Chauncey Hobart and his fellows were 
raised up and empowered to do it, and the church now anticipates the Master's word, 
"Well done, good and faithful servants." Our records hold no brighter page than 
that which tells of the toils and triumphs of those men. 

Chauncey Hobart, now eighty years of age, awaits the close of his career in serene 
faith and hope, at Red Wing, Minn. He has "sowed beside many waters," in Iowa, 
Illinois, Wisconsin and Minnesota. When he entered these fields of labor there was 
a handful of corn, and he was among the first to sow it; now it waves like Lebanon. 



PART III. 
THE FLATBOAT, RIFLE AND PLOUGH 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



THE PEOPLE. 



THEIR NATIONALITY. CHARACTERISTICS. DAILY LIFE, MANNERS AND CUSTOMS. DRESS. 

MUSCULAR DEVELOPMENT. DIET. FURNITURE. HARVEST BEES. DINNER. A DANCE. 

THE "INFARE." THE RAISING BEE. AN INDIAN RAID. SCOUTING- ADVENTURES. A 

WESTERN HEROINE. MADAME LECOMPTE. WILLIAM WHITESIDE. WAYNE'S SCOUTS, AND 

THEIR DARE-DEVIL DEEDS. FILSON'S BLOODY VOYAGE, AS NARRATED BY HIMSELF. THE 

LOG SCHOOL-HOUSE DESCRIBED. EARLY PEDAGOGUES. ANECDOTES OF. AN ARKANSAS 

Uj^oATIS." A FRONTIER ACTOR. AN ELECTION FIGHT. EARLY EDUCATIONAL ENDOW- 
MENTS. TRANSYLVANIA SEMINARY FOUNDED. THE FIRST SCHOOLMASTER IN KENTUCKY. 

FIRST PRINTING-PRESS AND NEWSPAPER. ADVERTISEMENTS. CARD PLAYING LEXING- 
TON. LOUISVILLE. RESULT OF AN EARTHQUAKE SCARE. PITTSBURG IN ITS INFANCY. 

HOW CINCINNATI WAS FOUNDED. EMERSON ON THE MARCH OF PROGRESS. 

IN describing the race derivation of the pioneers, we cannot do better than to use 
the language of Mr. Roosevelt, in his "Winning of the West." 
-The backwoodsmen were Americans by birth and parentage, and of mixed race; 
but the dominant strain in their blood was that of the Presbyterian-Irish-the Scotch- 
Irish, as they were often called. Full credit has been awarded the roundhead and 
the cavalier for their leadership in our country; nor have we been altogether blind to 
the deeds of the Hollander and the Huguenot; but it is doubtful if we have wholly 
realized the importance of the part played by that stern and virile people, the Irish, 
whose preachers taught the creed of Knox and Calvin. These Irish representatives 
of the covenanters were in the West almost what the Puritans were in the Northeast, 
and more than the cavaliers were in the South. Mingled with the descendants of 
many other races, they nevertheless formed the kernel of the distinctively and in- 

427 



428 NATIONALITY OF THE FIRST SETTLERS. 

tensely American stock who were the pioneers of our people in their march west- 
ward, the vanguard in the army of fighting settlers, who with the axe and rifle, won 
their Avay from the Alleghanies to the Rio Grande and the Pacific. Among the 
dozen or so most prominent backwoods pioneers of the West and Southwest, the men 
who were the leaders in exploring and settling the lands, and in fighting the Indians, 
British and Mexicans, the Presbyterian-Irish stock furnished Andrew Jackson, 
Samuel Houston, David Crockett, James Robertson, Lewis, the leader of the back- 
woods hosts in their first great victory over the Northwestern Indians ; and Camp- 
bell, their commander in their first great victory over the British. The other 
pioneers who stand beside the above were such men as Sevier, a Shenandoah Hugue- 
not; Shelby, of Welsh blood; and Boone and Clarke, both of English stock, the 
former from Pennsylvania, and the latter from Virginia. 

"The Presbyterian-Irish were, however, far from being the only settlers on the 
border, although more than any others they impressed the stamp of their peculiar 
character on the pioneer civilization of the West and Southwest. Great numbers of 
immigrants of English descent came among them from the settled districts on the 
East ; and though these later arrivals soon became indistinguishable from the people 
among whom they settled, yet they certainly sometimes added a tone of their own to 
the backwoods society, giving it here and there a slight dash of what we are accus- 
tomed to consider the distinctively Southern or cavalier spirit. There was, likewise, 
a large German admixture, not only from the Germans of Pennsylvania, but also 
from those of the Carolinas. A good many Huguenots likewise came, and a few 
Hollanders, and even Swedes from the banks of the Delaware, or perhaps from 
further off still." 

The earliest settlements north of the Ohio of American stock, in what are now 
Illinois, Indiana and Ohio, as well as those on the south and east of the river in 
Western Pennsylvania and Virginia, as well as in Kentucky and Tennessee, were 
made by these people, who, whatever their origin, were Americans to the back-bone. 
In their strong hands the axe played a part in the opening scenes of the drama of 
civilization scarcely second to that of the rifle ; and its well poised blade and keen 
edge and shapely hickory haft, wielded by them with unequaled strength and skill, 
must stand as one of their symbols. The boundless forests, whose tall columnar 
shafts were crowned with such a wealth of leafy branches that even the noon-day 
was shaded, and the thick underbrush on every hand, thridded only as was the yet 
denser canebrake by buffalo traces, the solitary roads of the wilderness, made a 



FIRST BATTLE FOR AMERICAN INDEPENDENCfi. 420 

shield and covert for the savages, and lairs for wild beasts hardly as treacherous and 
deadly as the red-skins. Clearings must be made before homes could be safe or 
fields tilled. The dauntless will, steady eye, strong, swift hand that freed the land 
from the murderous assaults of Shawnees, Wyandots, and Cherokees, were not more 
redoubtable on the war-path in the deadly fray, than in felling and clearing the 
forest, and making the wilderness and the solitary place to be glad for them ; and 
when the plough was added, "the desert rejoiced and blossomed as a rose." By 
their labor as well as their courage, "instead of the thorn has come up the fir tree, 
and instead of the brier, the myrtle tree," and their triumph shall be to their de- 
scendants an everlasting remembrance. 

The first battle for American independence was fought by North Carolina farmers 
at the Alamance, against Governor Tryon and his eleven hundred troops, on the 16th 
of May, 1771, four years earlier than the Massachusetts farmers tried conclusions 
with the troops of Gage at Lexington and Concord. The first declaration of Amer- 
ican independence was made in Mecklenburg county by the North Carolinians in 
1775, more than a year before that uttered in Philadelphia in 1776. It was the 
brethren of these men on both sides of the Blue Ridge, from Pennsylvania south- 
ward, that entered and subdued the country north and south of the Ohio. In 1788, 
came the equally brave and hardy sons of Massachusetts and Connecticut, to take 
possession of the lands of the Ohio Company, and began their settlement at Marietta, 
at the mouth of the Muskingum. Not long after, the "Western Reserve" on Lake 
Erie, belonging to Connecticut, began to be settled. Although the pioneers of Ken- 
tucky and Tennessee had borne the heat and burden of the day, the lot of those 
from New England was for many years scarce less trying and severe. 

It is difiicult for us to realize how crude, savage, and comfortless pioneer society was 
in its early stages. The settlers could cross the mountains only with pack-trains, and, 
therefore, carried with them the barest necessities, whether in furniture or provisions. 
Arrived upon his chosen claim, the first care of the immigrant was to provide a shelter 
for himself and family, and as they usually traveled in companies, for mutual protection, 
a little group of cabins forming a block-house marked a settlement. Shelter secured, 
the next care of the settler was to clear an acre of ground for a truck-patch, in which 
to plant corn, potatoes, and squash for the family table — the three backwoods sta- 
ples. Often, until the new crop could be grown, the family were confined to a diet 
of bear meat, venison and Avild turkey, not unfrequently without salt to season it. 
"Myfather came in the spring," says Dr. Doddridge, to whose books we arc indebted 



430 



JOHNNY-CAKE, A LUXURY. 



for many details of early pioneer life. "The Indian meal he brought gave out six 
Aveeks too soon, and the children were taught to call lean meat of deer, and breast of 
the Avild turkey, bread, and flesh of the bear, vegetables. We became sickly. Our 
stomachs seemed to be always empty; we were tormented with a sense of hunger. I 
remember how narrowly we watched the growth of the potato tops, pumpkin and 
squash vines, hoping from day to day to get something in the place of bread. How 
delicious was the taste of the young potatoes when we got them, what a jubilee when 




AN IMPLEMENT OF HOME INDUSTKY IN PIONEER DAYS. 

we Avere permitted to pull the young corn for roasting-ears. Still more so when it 
had acquired sufficient hardness to be made into johnny-cakes, by the aid of a tin 
grater. We then became healthy, vigorous, and contented with our situation, poor 
as it Avas." In time hog and hominy were added to the bill of fare. Johnny-cake 
and corn-pone Avere the only forms of bread seen at breakfast and dinner. Milk and 
mush Avas the standard dish for supper; if milk could not be had, sweetened water, 
molasses, bear's oil, or graAy served as a substitute. The standard dinner dish for 



A FROiSITIER %\TKDDl]SfGt. 431 

every log-rolling, house-raising, or harvest-bee, was a "pot-pie," or in some sections 
a "sea-pie." 

At this early stage of society, the only events that brought the people together 
were weddings, funerals, log-rollings, corn-shuckings, and house-raisings— the horse- 
race, the camp-meeting, and the hustings — the last two the great educators of the peo- 
ple — came later. 

Here is a description of a wedding : 

Early on a fine morning, there rides up to the door of a log-cabin a man about 
eighteen years of age, on his father's best horse and best saddle— if that worthy 
gentleman owns a saddle — the likelihood is that it is nothing but a blanket. In the 
door stands a blithe and buxom lassie of fifteen summers, but fully grown, and finely 
moulded. Saluting her frankly, he presents his horse broadside to her. \Yithout 
recourse to block or stile, she lays one hand confidingly on his knee, the other on the 
horse's rump, and throws herself gracefully into the pillion behind him. Thus rid- 
ing double, they start for the parson's, three or four of his male friends bearing them 
company. There are no roads, except bridle paths, and they, therefore, ride in In- 
dian file. The old fighting times have taught them one good lesson — to hold their 
tongues, unless they have something to say; hence the party is a silent one. Half a 
dozen or a dozen miles are passed, when a clearing in the woods is gained, in the 
center of which stands a lowly cabin. In its door you will see one, two, three, 
four tow-headed urchins — a series of short steps — who announce to the inmates 
the approach of the company. The foremost rider gives the customary hail, "Hillo, 
the house there." In obedience to this summons, there appears upon the threshold a 
large, raw-boned man, not in cassock, bands and surplice, not even in clerical black, 
but in a linsey-woolsey or buck-skin hunting-shirt. Seeing the strangers, he courte- 
ously invites them to "light and come in." Before this invitation is complied with, 
however, the candidate for matrimonial honors inquires, "Is the parson at home ?' ' The 
raw-boned man responds that he is that person. Whereupon the young man announces, 
"You see, this young woman and me have come here to git married ; kin you do it?" 
"Well, I reckon." "Well, we're in a great hurry, kin you do it quick?" "Certain- 
ly." The ceremony is proceeded with as regularly as if it were in a cathredral. The 
young people's hands are joined, and the good man's benediction is given as he pro- 
nounces them man and wife. The new husband asks : "Is that all, parson?" "That's 
all I can do for you." Straightening to his full height with great dignity, the j^oung 
man inquires: "Well, parson, what's the damage?" Parsons are modest men. With 



432 



A trSEFUL WEDblNGf FfiE. 



a blush and a stammer, our clerical friend intimates that the less said upon that sub- 
ject the better. "Oh, no, parson," responds the young backwoodsman, "I wish 
you to understand that I don't choose to begin life on tick." 

"Anything that is pleasant to you is agreeable to me." Whereupon the young 
husband requests one of his friends "to fetch it in off the horse's neck." "It" 



m 

mi 
1" " 




THE PIONKER SCHOOL-TEACHER — ''BOARDING AMONG THE SCHOLARS.' 



turns out to be a corn-shuck Jiorse-collar. This is the parson's fee, and right glad 



he is to get it. 



The bridal train returns as it came, until within half a mile of the bride's father's 
cabin, when all the young men of the party, save the one with the lady behind, start 
at a helter-skelter gallop through the Avoods, dodging the limbs, jumping the falleu 



THE BOTTLE RACE. 



433 



trees, yelling and screaming as if they were crazy. This is the bottle race. In the 
door of the cabin stands a man, his arm uplifted, grasping in his fist a great black 
bottle which he is shaking desperately, as if to incite the racers to greater speed. 
Up rushes the foremost of the horsemen, clutches "black Betty," gives her one 
triumphant wave around his head in token of his victory, applies her mouth to his 




THE SCICOOL ma'am ON DUTY— EARLY DAYS IN MISSISSIPPI. 



own, imbibing the consequences, and then returns to our young couple, that they 
may drink their own health and happiness in the best bald-face whiskey the settle- 
ment furnishes. 

In the cabin are assembled all the neighbors from miles around — men, women, 
children, and dogs. The men have been amusing themselves with the usual athletic 
28 



434 ^HE WEDDING FEAST. 

sports of the border — flinging the rail, hurling the tomahawk, pitching quoits, wrest- 
ling, running foot and horse races, and shooting at a mark. The women are mostly 
busied about the "barbecue." A trench has been dug, in one end of which the 
flames are blazing, in another the coals smouldering. Here the meats are being pre- 
pared. 

But it is high noon, dinner-time the world over, think our simple-minded farmers. 
The grand repast is served beneath a rustic arbor formed hy leafy branches. Upon 
the puncheon slabs are served bear meat, buffalo meat, venison, wild turkey, and, as 
the daintiest of all the delicacies, baked 'possum. For side dishes, you have "big 
hominy," pyramids of corn-dodgers, with plenty of milk or butter, if the countrj^ be 
far enough advanced for cows; if not, bear's oil must take the place. It is used as 
a sop for bread, as gravy for meat, and is pronounced wonderful by those who like 
it. The men draw their hunting knives from their belts and commence the business 
of carving, using their fingers for forks. Every mother's skirt is clutched by her 
brood of little ones, begging for dodger and gravy, while around every hunter, fawn 
and leap his hounds, begging for their share of the repast. 

The people are all large, very large — men, women, and babies. The men averag- 
ing over six feet in height, and broad in proportion, are clad in deer-skin hunting- 
shirts, leggins, and moccasins of the same material. When a man wishes a pair of 
stockings, he fills his moccasins with dried leaves. Around the waist is a belt with 
a sheath for the hunting knife, and another for the tomahawk. Descending from 
the shoulders are straps supporting the bullet-pouch and powder-horn. The head is 
surmounted by a coon-skin cap, the tail of the animal gracefully pendent between 
the shoulders — the only ornament upon the person masculine. 

But what am I to do with the gear of the women ? While the fio;htino; was ffoine: 
on, when the small stock of store goods brought from the older settlements has been 
exhausted, and there are no stores before the home-made looms can be put in opera- 
tion, the women were obliged to fall back upon the material emploj^ed by their hus- 
bands and sons, and thus manufacture their garments from deer-skin. You can 
readily perceive that when a woman has been thoroughly drenched in a hard shower, 
and is drying herself before a blazing fire, her garments may be a very tight fit. But 
now the spinning-jenny and the loom are in daily use, and they are dressed in cloth 
of their own making. Copperas, madder, and the other dyes, have not yet been in- 
troduced, wherefore, they say, by poetic license, white cloth ; in sooth, it is only a 
dirty brown. Mantua making has not been imported from Paris, and, in consequence, 



THE DANCE AN "ANTIQUE GOWN. 435 

the cut and make are of the most primitive description. The sleeves resemble min- 
iature corn-sacks, through which the hands are thrust; the dresses are gathered at 
the neck, but gathered nowlicre else, and fall gracefully — or gracelessly — around the 
person. But one damsel at this frolic, as at all frolics, is the cynosure of every be- 
holder. She has prevailed upon her father to go a journey of fifty miles to the 
"Falls" — Louisville — to buy her a new dress. It is bought and she has it on; but 
what catastrophes will not ensue when young women entrust the purchase of their 
wardrobe to their fathers. The dress is of calico — for calico is the velvet and moire 
antique of the time — but it is a furniture-calico, of a very large figure, and very red. 
But the old hunters are staring at her as if their eyes had never greeted such a vision 
of ravishing beauty. The old women are winking and nodding, and whispering to 
each other that "that gal's extravagance will spile the whole family." Need I say 
what the 3^oung women are doing? Or the young men? Who does not know the 
power of fine dress to breed envy and win attention ? 

Here, then, they stand around the hospitable board, a healthy, hearty, happy set 
of people, without a twinge of neuralgia, or a symptom of dyspepsia in the company. 
This 3'ou would believe, could 3'ou see them eat. Dinner ended, the second part of 
the programme begins ; and what can this be but a dance? Wherefore the old black 
fiddler is introduced, who, after making the inevitable preliminary flourishes with his 
bow, bids them choose partners and start. Remember that they are dancing as our 
Encrlish forefathers danced, on the ofreen sward in the checkered shade. And here 
Ave are reminded that they are the rough and unsophiscated people, for the only 
styles they are acquainted with are the Virginia reels, jigs, and shake-downs. If 
vou had mentioned waltz or polka in connection with dancing, they would have 
stared as if they thought you crazy. In sooth, had they known these figures, I 
much question their adopting them; for they held it as the primary axiom in domes- 
tic moralit}', that it Avas the business of every man to hug his own wife and let 
other Avomen alone, and the province of the lady to submit to that delicate process 
only at the arms of her lord, or her lover, at farthest. On they caper, "till the live- 
long daylight fail," Avhen, if not to "the spicy, nut-broAvn ale," they betake them- 
selves for recuperation to a cold cut and "black Betty." Through the thickening 
darkness, blazing pine-knots from the fire-stands shed a lurid glare, affording light 
enough to dance by. Thus they keep it up till daylight, halting in the middle Avatch 
for another "bite and swig." As the ruddy glow steals along the eastern sky, 
Avorn out and barefooted — for moccasins Avill not bear everything— they hie home 
to rest. 



436 The infare — the ratsing-beE. 

A (h\y or two after, you will sec every man who has been at the party, coming to 
the "infare," With his rifle on his shoulder, that, if occasion serve, he may "drop 
a deer in his tracks," attended by his pack of hounds, who follow him everywhere, 
to church and funerals as well as to weddings, our trusty hunter bears along his axe. 
Reaching the site selected, he finds a group of hardy woodmen stripped for their 
work, wielding their axes with gigantic strength and dexterous aim. The groat 
trees of the forest shiver, groan, and fall with a thunderous crash. Logs of the 
proper length are cut and notched; brawny arms lift them to their places; clap- 
boards for the roof are split, and puncheons* are hewed for the floor, and in a trice 
the new house is raised. In the center of the floor, four auger-holes are bored, in 
which are inserted stakes. On these, two puncheons are placed, which constitute 
the table. Four other auger-holes are bored in one corner of the cabin, in which 
are inserted four stakes with forked tops. In these are laid saplings, on which rest 
strips of bark, or, in their place, buifalo skins are tightly drawn. Dried leaves are 
then collected as a mattress, the upper side of the tick being constituted of skin ; and 
thus you have bed and bedstead. A rude dresser is hewn in another corner of the 
cabin, which shall contain the little stock of pottery, tin and iron ware. Three or 
four three-legged stools — to be followed in after-years by a dozen or twenty more, as 
necessity may require — and in course of time a sugar trough for a cradle, completed 
the furniture of the dwelling. At his leisure the young husband arranged a set of 
))Uck-horns over the door as pegs whereon to rest his rifle; and constructed a loom 
that his wife might prosecute her weaving, for she had brought with her a spinning- 
jenny as her dower. The house was "warmed" by another party, and our newly 
married pair was started upon "the sober jog of married life." In a few weeks the 
o;room would make a clearing of a few acres on his claim, and the huge logs would 
lie scattered about on its surface, too heavy for him to lift and pile preparatory to 
burning. Then the neighbors canle together again from miles around, piled the logs, 
and the same round of feasting, dancing, and jollity, would follow. This was re- 
peated again in the autumn at the time of harvest, when the golden ears were ready 
to be stripped of their husky coverings. They were heaped in great piles, and merry 
bands of youths and maidens attacked them, the fun and frolic, with practical jokes, 
increasinff more and more as the huire bulk lessened. A feast and a dance celebrated 
the conclusion of their labors. These gatherings were not always for mutual aid and 

* A puncheon is made by splitting a log eigliteen inches in diameter, the hewed side laid upper- 
most or outermost. They are used for floors, doors, benches, etc. 



AN INDIAN RAID. 



437 



assistance, however, and were not always attended with nierrj-making. Too often 
they wxre for mutual defense, and sorrow and w^eeping for murdered kindred or 
friends taken captive followed, for throughout these early days the Indians lurked in 
the forest, fierce and stealthy as the panther, and made innumerable forays, striking 
wherever a vulnerable place presented itself, burning and slaughtering indiscrimin- 
ately. At such times the scattered people fled to the forts. One of these attacks, 
and the measures taken to repel, has been described by an actor in it. 

In 1782, a large force 
of Indians attacked the 
fort at Wheeling, but 
were repulsed, where- 
upon a detachment one 
hundred strong left the 
main body, and set out 
to attack Fort Rice, on 
Buffalo Creek, twelve 
or fifteen miles above 
its entrance into the 
Ohio. Two "white In- 
dians" deserted and 
bore the alarm to the 
threatened settlements . 
Jacob Miller heard it at 
Moore, near Washing- 
ton, and spurred with 
the news to the fort, 
but could give only a 
half hour's notice, so swift were the marauders on the trail. The alarm was 
given ; every man ran to his cabin for his gun and took refuge in the block- 
house. The Indians answered the alarm-gun by war-whoops all around the 
fort, and began running toward it from all directions, but six skillful sharp- 
shooters opened fire upon them, and they were glad to take refuge behind 
trees, stumps and logs, from which they kept up a steady fire for four hours, calling 
out at intervals, "Give up, give up; too man}^ Indians; Indians too big; no kill,' 
but thev were onlv met with the stern defiance, "Come on, vou cowards; we are 




A FAMILY SINGING PSALMb. 



438 PREPARATIONS FOR DEFENSE. 

ready for you; show us your yellow hides, and we will make holes in them for you." 
Finding the settlers beyond reach, the Indians amused themselves by shooting their 
horses, cattle, sheep and hogs, and at night by firing a barn filled with grain and 
hay, some thirty yards from the fort, in the hope that the flames would be carried 
upon the latter. Disappointed in this, about two o'clock in the morning they fired 
a farewell shot, and disappeared in the forest. News of the attack was borne to our 
raconteur's fort, Avhich was on the Indian line of march. Captain Tetcr, in com- 
mand, mustered his men, and made a speech, reciting the battles and marches he had 
been in, and continued: "If the Indians succeed, we need expect no mercy. Every 
man, woman, and child will be killed on the spot. They have been defeated at one 
fort, and are mad with rage. We must fight for ourselves and one another, for our 
Avives and children, brothers and sisters. We must make the best preparations pos- 
sible. A little after daybreak we shall hear the crack of their guns." He then 
made a requisition of all the ammunition in the fort, and divided it among the men. 
"Now," he said, "when you run bullets, cutoif the necks very close and scrape them 
so as to make them a little less, and cut patches one hundred finer than usual, and 
have them well oiled, for if a rifle happens to be choked in time of battle, there is 
one o-un and one man lost — you'll have no time to unbritch a gun and drive out that 
bullet. Have the lock well oiled and your flints sharp, so as not to miss fire." He 
said to the women, "These yellow fellows are very handy at setting fire to houses, 
and water is a very good thing to put out fire. You mu.st fill every vessel with 
water." They fell to work and did as he directed. The men having put their rifles 
in order, "Now," said he, "let every man gather in his axes, hoes and mattocks, and 
place them inside his door, for the Indians may make a dash at us with tomahawks," 
and he completed his work by going from house to house to see that his instructions 
had been carried out. "Women of the present day," continues the narrator, "will 
suppose that our women were frightened half to death. On the contrary, I do not 
remember ever having seen a merrier set of women in my life. They went on with 
their work of carrying water, and cutting bullet patches for the men, apparently 
without the least emotion of fear, and I have every reason to believe they would have 
been pleased with the crack of the guns in the morning." The enemy returned to 
his wilderness fastnesses by another route, however, and the fort escaped an attack. 
"An express would come with an Indian alarm," says another Avriter, referring to 
their forays, "softly to the back door or window, and by gently tapping arouse the 
family as they slept with one eye open. The whole family was instantly in motion, 



*'CUSS THOSE RED-SKINS, THEy'vE GOT MY HAR." 439 

The father seized his gun and other weapons, the mother dressed the children, 
caught up those too young to walk, with what clothes they could get in the dark — 
for they dared not strike a light. This vras done with the utmost dispatch and in 
the silence of death. It was necessary only to breathe the word, 'Indians,' to 
silence the children. So the whole family would escape to the fort. Next morning, 
if the savages had not appeared, the furniture would be brought in under arms." 

A volume might be made of the stirring adventures and hair-breadth escapes of 
the Indian scouts and settlers. The following will serve as examples : 

A man named Davis walked out one morning, and had only got a few steps from 
the door, when he turned and found an Indian between him and the threshold. 
Thinking to elude the savage, he ran round the house so as to enter before him ; but 
on returning found that the cabin was filled with Indians, and he himself was hotly 
pursued by the one whom he had first seen. He rushed to a corn-field and succeeded 
in concealing himself. Hearing no noise, and no shouts or screams from the cabin, 
and knowing that without arms he could do nothing for the rescue of his family, he 
ran at the top of his speed for five miles to a block-house occupied by his brother 
and some other settlers. These quickly sallied out, returned to Davis's house, found 
that no blood had been spilled ; and after great difiiculty — for the Indians had taken 
every means to obliterate their trace — succeeded in getting upon the trail. Follow- 
ing this with all speed, after a number of hours they overtook the savages, who had 
still the wife and children of Davis with them. One of the children, a boy of eleven, 
was instantly thrown to the ground, as the Indians saw his father and friends ap- 
proaching, and the hair and skin from the top of his head skillfully removed by the 
surgical process called scalping. The rest of the Indians, frightened at the crack of 
the rifles, took to their heels, leaving the remainder of the family in a sink-hole by 
the side of the trail. The boy, springing up, his head streaming with blood, cried 
out at the top of his voice: "Father, after them. Cuss those red-skins — they've got 
my bar," — an illustration of the spirit of the boys of that period. 

There Avas a redoubtable hunter and Indian-fighter, named Hart, whose quickness 
and keenness in the warfare of the woods had obtained him the name of Sharp-Ej'e 
from his Indian enemies. This man had performed a number of feats which had 
won him the special hatred of the red people. Making a descent upon his neighbor- 
hood, secreting themselves over night, they attacked his family as they were sitting 
at breakfast one morning. An Indian leveled his rifle and shot Plart dead. The 
son, a boy of twelve, grasped his father's rifle and sent a bullet through the Indian's 



440 THE SPIRIT OF THE WOMEN OF THE FRONTIER. 

heart. The other savages rushed at the door in a body. The brave boy hurled a 
tomahawk and split the skull of the second; drove his scalping-knife to the hilt in 
the heart of a third, and then— the party was a large one — they carried him off with 
his mother, rather proud of the achievements of the lad. A sister was killed on the 
journey; but the boy and his mother, after being captives for some time, were ran- 
somed, and returned home. 

The spirit of the women of the country was of the same indomitable sort. The 
house of a settler was attacked just before the break of day. Hearing a noise out- 
side, he incautiously opened the door and stepped out on the threshold, when he re- 
ceived the contents of six or seven Indian rifles. Falling across the entry, mortally 
wounded, his wife hastily pulled the body in, and closed the door just in season to 
prevent the Indians from entering. They immediately, with clubs and tomahawks, 
commenced to cut away the door. There were no fire-arms in the house, the settler 
having been so reckless as to be without them. They succeeded in breaking down 
one of the puncheons of the door, and were pressing in. The bold wife had nothing 
but an axe; but as one savage after another crawled through, she hewed him down 
with the axe, and drew him inside ; until four were dispatched. The other three, 
thinking almost any other plan more promising, now climbed the roof and sought to 
descend the chimney. But female ingenuity is fertile in resources. There was only 
one feather bed in the house, and quick as thought she emptied it into the bed of 
glowing coals in the fireplace. Two more of the Indians, suffocated by the pungent 
fumes, fell into the fire, and as they groveled in the live coals, she split their skulls 
with her axe. The last of the party tried the broken door again. As he was crawl- 
through, the valiant woman gave him also a death wound with her heavy weapon, 
and was left safe for a time, and alone with her great sorrow and her brave revenge, 
and with a ghastly company of eight bloody corpses — her husband and his seven 
murderers. 

There was for many years resident in the Northwestern Territory, in what became 
afterward the State of Illinois, a French-creole woman, born at the post of St. 
Joseph's, upon Lake Michigan. She was fortunate enough, during her singular life, 
to have three husbands, two of them Frenchmen, and one American. She was 
known as Madame Lecompte, the name of her second husband, for that of the third 
she did not choose to keep ; a very vigorous, clear-minded person, capable of adapt- 
ing herself to circumstances, and well experienced in the customs of her Indian neigh- 
bors. Born in 1735, she sojourned some time in Michigan, and afterward descended 



MADAME LECOMPTE. 441 

to the French settlements in Illinois, and took up her residence at Cahokia. Many 
times, when the Indians were making descents upon the French at the instigation of 
the English, this woman, who was much beloved by the savages, received previous 
information from them that they were about to attack the settlements, in order that 
she might escape before the onslaught. The message always came in the night; but 
instead of escaping, the bold-hearted woman would instantly set out for the Indian 
camp, approach as day was breaking, and freely enter among their host, secure of 
respectful treatment. Sometimes she would stop with them, one, two, or three 
days, protesting, urging, reasoning with them, and inducing them at length to give 
up their foray. Returning to the settlement, with three or four hundred savage war- 
riors, who had come out to burn and slay, she brought them in friendly guise, to 
make their humble acknowledgments to the settlers, and to partake of their hospi- 
tality. Thus, in a dozen cases, at least, did this brave woman, at Cahokia and Kas- 
kaskia, prevent the destruction of the French and American inhabitants. She lived 
till 1843, reaching the astonishing age of a hundred and nine years; and the old 
chronicler, Governor Reynolds, states that to the last she was active in body and 
mind, and possessed her faculties and functions, intellectual and physical, at that ad- 
vanced period, better than women at forty or fifty do now. 

William Whiteside, a soldier of the Revolution, who had fought bravely at the bat- 
tle of King's Mountain, a strong and athletic woodsman, of Irish blood, was, in 1795, 
settled in the American Bottom, between Kaskaskia and Cahokia. Getting intelli- 
gence that a party of Indians were encamped in the neighborhood with the design of 
stealing his horses, the fiery old warrior summoned a little band of fourteen men, his 
tried companions in many a combat Avith the savages, and set out to surprise them in 
camp. Surroundmg them just before day, a furious charge was made, and after a 
severe combat, all the Indians were killed but one, Avho fled, and who was killed when 
he got home, by his tribesmen, for his cowardice. In this battle, Capt. Whiteside 
received a wound which he thought mortal, and which brought him to the ground. 
But he neither flinched nor feared; and he lay there exhorting his men to fight 
bravely, not to retreat an inch, and never to permit the enemy to touch him after he 
was dead. One of his sons, who was unable to use his gun, being wounded in the 
arm, now came up, and on examining his father's wound discovered that the ball had 
merely glanced from a rib, and passing round, had lodged under the skin near the 
spine. He quietly drew his butcher-knife and cut out the ball as he would out of a 
tree, merely remarking in a dry way, "Father, you're not dead yet." The old man, 



442 Wayne's scouts and 

on reflection, thought so too; and jumping to his feet, cried out, "Boys, I can fight 
the Indians yet," and rushed again into the fight. 

It is not necessary to give details of the incessant border barbarities of the In- 
dians; nor of the expeditions which, one after another, went forth against them. 
Nor need we detail the adventures, the sufferings, the defeats and degradations of 
the hapless hosts of Harmar and St. Clair ; nor the splendid triumphal progress of 
Anthony Wayne ; npr the decisive victory gained by him in the great battle of the 
Fallen Timber, which reduced the belligerent tribes to a condition of humble, though 
unwilling submission. But we will narrate a few circumstances of individual adven- 
ture in Wayne's army, which will serve as additional illustrations of the character of 
western woodsmen of that day. 

Attached to this army was a .small body of scouts, whose business it was to range 
up and down the woods in front and flank of the line of march, familiarize themselves 
with the movements of the savages, and every now and then arrest some Indian and 
bring him to the camp, that the general might get his news at first hand. The head 
of these scouts was Captain William Wells, who had associated with him a man 
named Miller, another named McLennan, and three others. These, while in camp, 
were gentlemen-at-large, and no duties dcA^olved upon them ; but when they Avere 
upon the war-path, their occupations were of a sufiiciently hazardous description to 
make up for former ease. In 1793, Wayne had sent out Wells, with Miller and 
McLennan, for the purpose of catching an Indian. They proceeded northward in the 
direction of some Indian towns. When yet at a distance, they heard a sound of 
merry-making, and approaching an open glade in the wood, found three Indians 
seated near its center, cooking venison, laughing and talking at leisure. The three 
spies were too distant to rush in upon them ; and it was necessary to take one of them 
alive. They, therefore, skirted along the timber till they came opposite to the point 
from which they had first discovered the savages. Here there was a fallen tree; and 
creeping along this until they were safely ensconced between the branches, it was ar- 
ranged that the spy on the right should shoot the Indian on the right ; he on the left 
should pick his man in the same way, while McLennan, who w^as in the middle, and 
the fleetest man in the party, was to run after the third Indian, and seize him. The 
fire was given, the two Indians fell dead, and, as was expected, the middle one took 
to his heels with all dispatch, McLennan after him. The smoke had not cleared away 
before the two men were seen bounding along at the top of their speed. Near at 
hand was a stream of water. The Indian, seeing McLennan gaining 0:1 him, ran to 



THEIR DARE-DEVIL DEEDS. 443 

the river, and plunging over a bluff, twenty feet high, landed in a deep quagmire. 
McLennan, without pausing, sprang after him; and up to their breasts, as they stood, 
both mired fast but within reach of each other, a desperate struggle ensued. The 
knife and tomahawk were drawn, and the two foes were on the point of a bloody 
conflict, Avhen the other two spies came up, and burst into a hearty laugh at the ab- 
surd phase of the spectacle. The Indian, seeing that there was no chance for him, 
dropped his weapons and surrendered. The others extricated them from their em- 
barrassing attitude; and while the two who had been in the morass were washin<>- off 
the dirt, it was discovered that the man who had thus been seized was not really an 
Indian, though burned and browned so as to be almost of their tawny complexion; 
but that he bore indubitable marks of white origin. Miller had himself been a pris- 
oner with the Indians many years, having been captured in his early j^outh; and had 
left a brother, Christopher Miller, in their hands. A strange suspicion flashed upon 
him. It was years since he had seen his brother. The white Indian, however, was 
sulky, and refused to answer any questions, until Miller, riding up — for thev had 
placed him upon a horse — called him by his Indian name. The man flushed, turned 
crimson and asked, "How do you know my name?" Here was the truth revealed as 
by a miracle. The brothers' hands had been providentially stayed from shedding 
each other's blood; and after long and urgent entreaty, pleading even with tears in 
his eyes, Miller succeeded in winning Christopher from his wild Indian waj's; and 
at length induced him to join their scouting and foraging party, of which he became 
one of the most resolute and indomitable members. 

Thus reinforced, and with two other men, they were sent on a subsequent occa- 
sion, by General Wayne, to take other prisoners. They had proceeded thirty-five 
miles from Fort Defiance, in the direction of Mauniee. This was in the year 1794, 
just before the great battle in which Wayne was victorious. Arriving within two 
miles of the English post, they rode boldly into an Indian town, near where Fort 
Meigs was afterward built, as if they had come from the British fort; and being 
painted and decorated with feathers in Indian st3'le, although they met Indians con- 
stantly, as some of them could speak the language, they were supposed to be none 
other than a party of Indians. In an out-of-the-way place, beyond the town, they 
seized an Indian warrior with his squaw, gagged and hand-cuffed them, tied them 
upon the saddle, and turned toward the American camp. Presently they reached 
the neighborhood of a large Indian encampment; and now these seven reckless men 
made a detour, and gained the l)rush at some distance, where they concealed their 



444 A "FUNNY freak" AND ITS EESULTS. 

prisoners and then resolved to return and have a bout Avith the Indians in camp. It 
was understood, by previous arrangement, that they were to ride in as if they were 
all Indians, and enter into an amicable conversation with any parties about the fires, 
in order that they might gain all the information possible. Sitting quietly on their 
saddles, every man with his finger on the trigger of his rifle, they coolly rode into 
the camp, as agreed. They had an agreeable chat of fifteen or twenty minutes with 
the Indian warriors, who were loitering around the fires ; when an old chief, sitting 
upon a log, whispered to his friends that there was something suspicious about these 
men; they didn't seem like Indians. Wells overheard the remark; the spies dis- 
charo-ed their rifles, each into the breast of an Indian, and then putting spurs to their 
horses, and lying down on their necks so as to present less mark for their enemy's 
fire, they rode full speed into the forest, whooping and hallooing as if they were 
demons. The Indians, however, grasped their rifles and delivered their fire, in con- 
fusion and bewilderment. Yet before the spies had got beyond the circle of the fire- 
light, McLennan was shot through the shoulder, and Wells, receiving a bullet in his 
arm, lost his rifle. May, a third man, was taken prisoner; the others, after a dan- 
gerous and fatiguing journey, arrived safely at camp. And this was a funny freak; 
an amusing adventure ; a specimen of the sport relished by the rugged borderers of 
that day. 

McLennan was the fleetest runner in Wayne's army; doubtless one of the fleetest 
that ever lived. It is told of him on good authority, that when the army was en- 
camped at Greenville, he took a short run, and sprang over a camp-wagon which 
rose, with its cover on, just nine feet from the ground. 

Captain Wells, the chief of this band of daring men, met an appropriate fate in a 
characteristic manner. Long after Wayne's expedition, during the Indian hostilities 
in 1812, he held the official position of interpreter to the Miami nation. The Potta- 
watomies had surrounded the American garrison of Fort Dearborn, where Chicago 
now stands; and Wells, whose niece was wife of the commander, Major Heald, had 
gone thither with the intention of aiding the troops to escape to Fort Wayne. But 
he was obnoxious to the Pottawatomies, who were also much enraged at finding that 
the garrison of Fort Dearborn had destroyed their powder, instead of delivering it 
up, as was agreed. A little after, the garrison, according to a sort of capitulation 
between the ofiicers and chiefs, had set out on their journey to Fort Wayne. 
The irritated Pottawatomies attacked them. Wells, seeing instantly that there 
was no hope, and knowing that to be taken prisoner was to be subjected to 



JOHN filson's voyage, 445 

dreadful torture, wetted powder and blackened his face, in token of defiance, and 
mounting his horse, began to pour out on the Indians all the abusive and insult- 
ing terms he was master of. This, as he had intended, irritated them to such a 
pitch that one of them shot him down from his horse, and then springing upon 
him like a beast, cut him open, tore out his heart, and ate it. 

The following account of a journey from Fort St. Vincent (Vincennes, Indiana,) 
to Louisville, shows the perils to which all wayfarers were exposed in those times, 
and derives additional interest, because it was written by John Filson, the first school- 
master of the West, and its first literary man, author of the History of Kentucky, and 
the Life of Daniel Boone. The preservation of his spelling, capitals, punctuation, 
and grammar, lends an additional charm to the extract, for which, by the way, I am 
indebted to the most interesting and valuable monograph on Filson, by the accom- 
plished Col. R. T. Durrett, of Louisville. On the first of June, 1786, Filson set out 
from Vincennes to go down the Wabash and up the Ohio to Louisville. He secured 
a pirogue, and placed in it his trunks and such other articles as he wished to trans- 
port to the falls of the Ohio. Having employed three men to assist on the trip, he 
started out with two of them so drunk, that himself and the other could only be de- 
pended upon for attention to the boat. When they reached the mouth of White 
River, what were called Indian signs in those days, began to appear. Six miles 
further on they saw a large wigwam on the western bank of the Wabash, and when 
they were opposite, the Indians rushed out and began an attack upon their frail 
vessel. The rest of the narrative is given in the language of Filson himself; 

"I told my men there was Indians, and immediately about fifteen guns were fired 
at us, accompanied with that infernal yell, which ever carries the idea of terror with 
the sound. Being too far distant from the shore to receive much damage, though 
several bullets lodged in our boat we steered across the river, but was immediately 
pursued by a pirouge, crowded with savages, firing upon us, and yelling to discourage 
flight. My place being in the steerage they directed their balls at me, numbers 
struck the boat, but although they came like hail, yet we gained the shore unhurt, 
my hat only received damages. It is impossible to paint the manner of our flight 
and the pursuit; no human warriors pursue more violently the unhappy objects of 
their rage, than savages. Our arms consisted of onl}^ two fuzees and one sword. 
The savages being advanced within fifty yards of shore, I directed my men to stand 
and fight them, they being advanced a few steps to flee, turned to me with a melancholy ; 
look and saw death approaching; self-preservation determined their answers for 



446 JOHN filson's voyage. 

escape. I then told them with speediest flight to save themselves if possible. As I 
advanced to land, took up two small trunks, containing some valuable articles these 
I cast under the nettles, a little distance from shore, and entered the woods in a 
different direction from my men, like the unhappy mariner ready to sink with his 
vessel in the foaming surge, used prayers and a vigorous flight for safety, the last 
hope of relief . These were not uneffectual; a wonderful deliverance indeed. Sure 
some guardian angel averted the impending danger. Who can reflect upon the cir- 
cumstance without terror? The shore red with bloody savages, I may say at my 
heels, who, that have not experienced such a situation can possibly conceive the 
distress? In flight I oft turned my eyes from behind some ancient friendly tree, to 
view some bloodthirsty savage, in full chase, with his terrible right hand to lodge 
me in the land of silence. Sometimes I lay concealed in the thickest of cane and 
nettles, but immediately quitted the insecure covering, for to the sagacious savage 
my track must be obvious, as the herbage yielded to every step ; and being wet did 
not recover their rectitude. Concluding that a crafty flight was the only possible 
means to ensure safety, I used many turnings and windings by crossing my track 
and walking back and on logs and spaces clear of herbage. Wandering about two 
hours through the woods, I assayed to return to the spot where we were obliged to 
fly, and finding that the savages were gone over with their prize, I came near where 
I left my trunks, and seeing them safe, took them up, and departed bending my 
course toward Post Vincent, which was thirty miles distant on a northeast course. 
Two of my men had directed their course up white river, and about half a mile 
from Wabash was cruelly massacred; my third man had concealed himself under a 
large fallen tree, a little distance from the river, that was closely fenced on either 
side by nettles; there trembling and pale he saw the savages returning with the 
clothing and scalps of his companions. 

"Whether these bloodhounds concluded me out of reach or passed my footsteps 
unobserved, or attended more to the plunder, is a mystery; but as we had some spirit- 
ous liquor on board, that probably might be the Lethe in my favor. With hasty 
steps I left the dangerous place, bearing trunks, the reliques of my property, to the 
amount of 800 dollars in that country. In passing a few miles up White River, I 
saw many late Indian camps which induced me to cross it the first opportunity, and 
having found some drift wood, by fastening some logs with bark, I formed a raft on 
which I committed my body to the full flowing stream. My trunks I had fastened 
on part of an old plank separately. Having advanced a little distance from shore, 



AS NARRATED BY HIMSELI'. 447 

my raft parted and rendered my situation desperate ; when I escaped the savages I 

thought the bitterness of death was past, but now concluded my time must be near 

a period. A gleam of hope was yet left. In this dilemma I fastened upon one of 

the logs, which being small scarcely supported me from total immersion; with my 

left hand I held the little plank, and with my right rowed across the river, about 400 

yards wide. Thus I escaped again and continued my course through the shadow of 

death; for although I met no savages, there was the greatest probability I should. 

The day began to decline, and heavy showers fell. The briers and thorns tore my 

clothes, and my flesh experienced the most excruciating pain from their repeated 

assaults and the invenomed nettles. Hunger now began to rage. I felt languid and 

my burthen increased with wet. Those lines in Homer came lively : 

"Oh friends, a thousand ways has Fate frail mortals to lead, 
To the cold tomb, and dreadful all to tread; 
But dreadful most, when by a slow decay, 
Pale hunger wastes the manly strength away." 

"Late in the evening I advanced to the river Destice on the east side of the Wabash 
below the Post, and attempting to ford it was near being drowned, but recovering 
the shore again I made a small raft and went over. Being soon overtaken by night, 
the moon shone I continued to travell by its light, through a disagreeable walk ; at 
length worn down by fatigues, I sat down and attempted to strike fire, but my 
powder being damp, it was impracticable. Miriads of misketoes surrounded me 
humming their unwelcome tune to my distressed body, and though in a very un- 
comfortable state, and under the power of these tormentors sunk into sleep, and 
awoke not until daylight appeared again, when rousing up I continued my course, 
and arrived about noon at the Parery containing about 10,000 acres, being then about 
six miles from town, it being visible. Along this extensive tract which is exceedingly 
level and fertile, where scarcely a tree or shrub is seen, but variegated with pastures, 
meadows, fields of corn, and other fruits; and not the smallest enclosure with a 
fence or hedge throughout. The different plantations were conspicuous with num- 
bers of the inhabitants cultivating the cornfields ; had I beheld this in a day of pros- 
perity it must have afforded me pleasure; but all these laborious people were in 
dread of the savages, for if one inprudently fired a gun, with trembling hearts they 
all prepared for flight. The French labored without quarrels, being less the object 
of Indian aversion than the Americans ; who at this time could not turn up the earth 
with a plow, unless guarded by armed men. To one of these military occupants I 



448 AN OBJECT or PITY. 

first advanced who scarcely believed their eyes, so greatly was my condition altered: 
such is the difference between prosperity and adversity. Here I met the warmest 
and most unfeigned sympathy, for in a land of suffering, the unfortunate have that 
consolation. The humane people flocked around me to hear the melancholy tale, and 
gave me some wholesome provisions to refresh my emaciated spirits immediately 
quiting their village, conducted me to town in a carriage. 

"I took lodging; at the house of Colonel Small, and after havino- related the con- 
sequences of my adventure to the alarmed inhabitants, I advised to send a party to 
destroy the robbers; and retake the property, which then was easily practicable. 
Many professed a willingness to proceed but the major part maturely considering 
that it would weaken their number in town, the Indians by taking advantage of their 
absence, might make themselves masters of their fort, and destroy the women and 
children; it was therefore thought prudent to omit so interesting a design. Much 
distressed in body and mind for some days, I was an object of pity ; but recovering a 
little of the fatigue, was obliged to use some sportive exercises to prevent a malady ; 
the good effects of this I soon experienced ; by which I am satisfied that concise and dil- 
igent exercise of body and mind is essential to overcome the bad consequences that often 
result from a capital misfortune. Two principal causes moved me to expose myself at 
this time to danger on Wabash, one was the unhappy contentions existing between 
French and American inhabitants of the Post, on account of the unavoidable dis- 
putes daily multiplied between the latter and the Savages, the former opposing every 
measure by which they were impelled by necessity to defend themselves from savage 
hostilities, so much influence was necessary to commerce with mankind, that in ef- 
fect it causes social and civilized beings to laugh at the calamity of others though 
unjust and barbarous the cause, secondly a desire to see my friends and native soil, 
Chester County in Pennsylvania. Being now unhappily convinced that a passage by 
water was impossible I determined to go by land. It was then thought impossible 
to leave the Post by land or water without iminent danger, the savages being insid- 
uously ambuscaded round the parery. My friends earnestly desired me to stay, 
representing the danger consequent upon such an undertaking. I thanked them for 
their advice, adding that from the late interposition of heaven in my favor it was 
plain that I was not reserved for a severer fate, but some valuable purpose. Being 
well refreshed in ten days and finding a good hardy woodsman intending the journey 
also, we agreed to leave the post on the night of the twelfth of June. The moon 
shone with an agreeable lustre, and accompanied a small distance by some of our 



THE LOG SCHOOL-HOUSE. 



449 



friends, we directed our course for the falls of Ohio, and during the nocturnal hours 
traveled about fifteen miles, though every step was disagreeable, through brushy 
woods and swampy grounds, yet safty from Savages afforded us some pleasure. 
Next day rafted over white river a. m., continuing our course one and a half point 
South east, concluding ourselves out of the reach of the Savages lurking around the 
post. I concluded the journey in seven painful days arrived safe at the falls of 
Ohio." 




THE FRONTIER TEACHER AND HIS SCHOOL. 



The log school-house and church were early familiar objects in the wilderness 
clearings. The court-house, too, soon appeared, for however crude and rough our 
pioneer fathers were, they had an abiding respect for learning and law. Here is Dr. 
Drake's description of the early log school-house : "In the winter, light was admitted 
through oiled paper by long openings between the logs, for at that time glass was not 
thought of. It was one story high, without any upper floor, and about sixteen by twenty 
feet in dimensions, with a great wooden chimney, a broad puncheon floor, and the 
door of the same material with its latch and string. The teacher's function was to 
29 



Jj 



450 "EASY READINGS FOR THE YOUNG. 

teach spelling, reading, writing, and cyphering as far as the rule of three, beyond 
which he could not go, and his attainments in that branch harmonized, as to quantity 
and compass, with his erudition in the others. The fashion was for the whole school 
to learn and say their lessons aloud, and a noisier display of emulation has, perhaps, 
never since been made. Each pupil had brought such an article for reading lessons 
as first came to hand. One had a mutilated copy of Dilworth's 'New Guide to the 
English Tono-ue.' Another showed a volume of old sermons; a third had the 'Ro- 
mance of the Forest,' an old novel, and a specimen of the 'Yellow Covered Liter- 
ature' of a former age. A fourth, fifth, and sixth could show Testaments, or pieces 
of Bibles with the binding in tatters, and the print dim, and paper brown, such as 
were gotten for sale to merchants in that day. Some came without books, or any 
aid to learn the art and mystery of spelling and reading. The Psalter that had de- 
scended from some Virginia family whose ancestors belonged to the Colonial En- 
glish Church, was presented by three or four more. The marvelous story of 'Val- 
entine and Orson' answered for the whole stock of literature for a family of three 
children. One little fellow whose memory was not in the best order, and his per- 
ceptive faculties slow of development, had the Bible for his book of 'easy readings.' 
Master Halfpenny had no more sense than to give out his lessons from the book of 
Daniel, and the third chapter. Partly by spelling out the words, and partly by the 
aid of a school-fellow, he had made tolerable progress in pronouncing hard words and 
proper names through eleven verses. In the twelfth verse he met the formidable 
obstruction of the three Hebrew names, Shadrack, Meshach and Abednego, which 
he could not surmount. The master was petulant, surly, and uttered a series of 
strange sounds in jabbering Irish, which the poor afilicted pupil could neither un- 
derstand nor imitate. He did his very best to pronounce these names in the way the 
master ordered, and was dismissed with the formidable threat of a striped jacket the 
next day if he forgot them. Next day came, and the little fellow was in his seat, 
toiling at his lesson, for he really tried to learn. His turn came to say his lesson, and 
he stood beside the master in a tremor that shook his little frame, and the perspira- 
tion streaminn; down his cheeks. His lesson commenced with the thirteenth verse. 
Nebuchadnezzar was one of these long words that had gone round the school on 
divers occasions, and little Tommy, as he was familiarly called in the family circle, 
had mastered that before the stupid master had put him into the book of Daniel. 
He read two lines distinctly with a tremulous voice, for the threat of the striped jacket 
had not escaped his memory, when he stopped suddenly. 'Read on,' sounded in 



452 * 'MISTER SHADERACK, MES-HACK AND ABED-YE-GO. 

his ears like the crack of the hazel, 'why don't you read on, ye spalpeen?' came 
again. With the expectation of the whip, the trembling pupil, unable to recollect, or 
repeat anything, burst into tears and sobs, and made an effort to explain his inability. 
'Why, here are these three fellows again, and I don't know them.' Master Half- 
penny for once was disarmed. There was so much simplicity and honest effort in the 
boy, that the master made a kind effort to relieve his pupil. 'Why, boy, cannot ye 
mind them? They are Mister 8haderack, Mes-hack, and Abed-ye-go. Now ye 
mought go on with 3'our lesson, and don't ye miss ^em again.'' " 

The early pedagogue, as a rule, was able to teach only the three R's, but with this 
slender outfit many a boy went out from these forest academies to make a name for 
himself in the world. Later came graduates of high-schools and colleges — many 
taught as a means of livelihood, wdiile studying for the legal profession or for the 
ministry. Often they were of foreign extraction, like the one thus described: "He 
was an Irishman of the Pat Freney stripe, and I fancy there are many with gray 
heads and wrinkled fronts who can look upon the scars resulting from his merciless 
blows, and remember that Milesian malignity of face with its toad-like nose, with 
the same vividness wath which I recall it to-day. Yes, I remember it, and with cause. 
When scarcely ten years of age, in his little log school-house, the aforesaid resem- 
blance forced itself upon me with such vim that involuntarily I laughed. For this 
I was called to his frowning presence. 'What are you laughing at, you whelp?' 
was his stern inquiry. Tremblingly I replied, 'You will whip me if I tell you.' 
'And, you little fiend, I will whip you if you don't,' was his rejoinder, reaching for 
his well-trimmed hickory, one of several displayed on his table. With sinceritj^ I 
answered, 'Father Duff}^, I was laughing to think how much your nose is like a 
froo".' It was just after recess, and I had to stand by him, and at intervals receive 
a dozen lashes laid on with all his brawny Irish strength until discharged with the 
school at night. To-day I bear the marks of that whipping upon my shoulders and 
in my heart." Not all were so brutal, however, as this pleasant incident related by 
the same author proves: "A \Qvy pretty little girl of eight years, full of life and 
spirit, had incurred by some act of mischief the penalty of the switch, — the only and 
universal means of correction in the country schools. She was the sweetheart of a 
lad of ten who sat looking on, and heard the dictum of the teacher, 'Well, Mary, 
I must punish you.' All eyes were directed to William. Deliberately he laid down 
his books, and stepping quickly up to the teacher, said respectfull}^, 'Don't strike 
her, sir; whip me. I'll take it for her,' arresting with his hand the uplifted switch. 



AN ARKANSAS "NOATIS." 453 

Every eye brightened with approbation, and then filled with tears, as the teacher, 
laying down his rod, said: 'William, you are a noble boy, and for your sake I will 
excuse Mary.' Ten years later Mary was the wife, the dutiful, loving, happy wife 
of William ; and William twenty years after was a Representative and then Senator in 
Congress, one of the noblest, best and proudest of the sons of his native State." 
The following story illustrating the ignorance of the frontier schoolmaster, is no doubt 
true. The narrator was traveling in Arkansas, and drove up to the ferry over the 
Cache Elver. "There was a little log grocery on the bank fifteen steps from Avhere 
the ferry flat was tied to a snag; on its walls bear, coon, and deerskins had been 
nailed to dry. On the door was the following 'Noatis.' 'Ef anny boddy cums hear 
arter licker or to git across the Rivver they kin just blow this here Home, and if I 
don't cum, when my wife betsey up at the House heers the Home a bloin she'll cum 
down and sel the licker, or set across the Rivver. i'm a gwin fishin. No credit 
when i'm away from hum. John Wilson. 

" 'N. B. — them that cant read will hev to go to the Hous arter betsey ; tant but haf 
a mile thar.' I took the 'bloin Home,' which was stuck in a crack of the wall 
close by the door, and gave a toot on it which reverberated far up and down the 
river, and in a few moments was answered by a voice as loud and reverberating as 
the horn, and in fifteen minutes a stalwart female appeared, and asked if I wanted 
licker. 'No, madam,' I said, 'I want to cross the river.' 'Don't 3^ou want some 
licker first?' 'No, madam, I don't drink. I never touch licker of any kind.' 
'Never touch licker; must be a preacher then, ain't you?' 'No, madam, I'm sim- 
ply a temperance man; I wish to cross the river. Do you row the boat?' 'O yes, 
I kin take ye over in less no time. Fetch in yer boss.' I obeyed and asked, 'Did 
your husband write the notice on the door there?' 'No, siree,' said she, 'school- 
master Jones writ that — my old man hain't got no larnin.' " 

This story told by my old friend. Judge Longstreet, illustrates the character of 
some of the boys of that time: "I was riding along one beautiful spring day, rapt 
with the enchantment of the season and the scenery, when rising a gentle slope I was 
startled by loud, profane and boisterous voices, which seemed to proceed from a thick 
covert of underjjrowth a little in advance of me. 

'"You kin, kin you?' 

"'Yes, I kin, an' am able to do it. Boo-oo-oo. Oh, wake snakes and walk your 
chalks. Brimstone and — fire. Don't hold me, Nick Stoval. The fight's made up 
and let's go at it. My soul, if I don't jump down his throat and gallop every chit- 
terling out of him before you can say 'quit,' 



454 A FRONTIER ACTOR. 

'"Now, Nick, don't hold him. Just let the wildcat come, and I'll tame him. 
Ned'll see me in a fair fight, won't you, Ned?' 

" 'Oh, yes, I'll see you in a fair fight, blast my old shoes if I don't.' 

" 'That's sufficient,' as Tom Haynes said when he saw the elephant, 'now let him 
come.' 

"Thus they went on with countless oaths interspersed which I dare not even hint 
at, and with much that I could not distinctly hear. In mercy's name, thought I, 
what band of ruffians has selected this holy season and this heavenly retreat for 
such pandemonium riots. I quickened my gait and had come nearly opposite the 
thick grove whence the noise proceeded, when my eye caught indistinctly and at in- 
tervals through the foliage of the dwarf oaks and hickories, glimpses of a man or 
men who seemed to be in a violent struggle; and I would occasionally catch those 
deep drawn emphatic oaths, which men in conflict utter when they deal blows. I 
dismounted and hurried to the spot with all speed. When half way there I saw 
the combatants come to the ground, and after a short struggle I saw the uppermost 
one (for I could not see the other) make a heavy plunge with both thumbs, and at 
the same instant I heard a cry in the accents of keenest torture, 'Enough, my eye's 
out.' I was so completely horrorstruck that I stood for a moment transfixed to the 
spot where the cry met me. The accomplices in the hellish deed, which had been 
perpetrated, had all fled at my approach ; at least I supposed so, for they were not 
to be seen. 

" 'Now, blast your corn-sucking soul,' said the victor, a youth about eighteen years 
old, as he rose from the ground, 'come cuttin' you shines 'bout me agin next time 
I come to the court-house. Get your owl eye in agin, if you kin.' At this moment 
he saw me for the first time. He looked excessively embarrassed, and was moving 
off, when I called him in a tone emboldened by the sacredness of my office, and the 
iniquitv of his crime. 'Come back, you brute, and assist me in relieving your fel- 
low mortal whom you have ruined forever. ' My suddenness subdued his embarass- 
ment in an instant, and with a taunting curl of the nose, he replied, 'You needn't 
kick before you're spurred. There hain't nobody there, nor hain't been, neither. I 
was just seeing how I could a fout.' So saying, he bounded to his plough which 
stood in the corner of the fence about fifty yards beyond the battle-ground. And 
would you believe it, gentle reader, the report was true. All that I had heard and 
seen was nothing more nor less than a Lincoln county rehearsal in which the youth 
who had just left me had played all the parts of all the characters in a court-house 



AN ELECTION FIGHT. 455 

fight. I went to the ground from which he had arisen, and there were the prints of 
his two thumbs pkmged up to the balls in the mellow earth about the distance of a 
man's eyes apart, and the ground around was broken up as if two stags had been en- 
gaged upon it." 

Here is the description of an election fight in the good old days of the West, from 
the pen of George D. Prentice, which may stand as a companion piece to the fore- 
going : 

"A great ruffian-looking fellow, with arms like a j)air of cables knotted at the ends, 
and a round black head that looked like a forty pound cannon shot, swaggered up to 
the polls and threw in his bit of paper and was walking off in triumph. 'Stop, 
friend,' exclaimed one of the Salt River roarers, stepping deliberately up to him, 
'are you a voter?' 'Yes, I be,' replied he of the bullet-head. 'That's a lie,' 
rejoined the roarer, 'and you must just prepare 3^ourself to go home an old man, 
for I'll be dratted if I don't knock you into the middle of your ninety-ninth 3'ear.' 
'Ay, ay,' replied the other, 'come on, then; I'll ride you to nowhar, whipped up 
with the sea sarpint.' They had reached an open space, and the Salt River bully, 
shaking his fist a moment by way of a feint, dropped his chin suddenly upon his 
bosom and pitched head foremost toward the stomach of his antagonist with the 
whole force of his gigantic frame. Bullet-head, however, was on his guard, and 
dodging aside with the quickness of lightning to avoid the shock, gave the assailant 
a blow that sent him staggering against a whiskey table, where he fell to the ground 
amid the crash of bottles, mugs and tumblers. Nothing daunted by this temporary 
discomfiture, the bully gathered himself up, and with a single muttered curse re- 
sumed his place in front of his foe. Several blows were now given on both sides, 
with tremendous effect, and in a few minutes the Salt River boy, watching his oppor- 
tunity, repeated the manoeuver in which he had first been foiled. This time he was 
successful. His head was planted directly in his antagonist's stomach, who fell 
backward with such force that I had no expectation of his ever rising again. 'Is the 
scoundrel done for?' inquired the temporary victor, walking up and looking down 
on his prostrate foe. Bullet-head spoke not, but with the bound of a wikl cat leaped 
to his feet and grappled with the enemy. It was a trial of strength, and the com- 
batants tuo-jred and strained and foamed at the mouth, and twined like serpents 
around each other's bodies, till at length the strength of the bullet-head prevailed, and 
his opponent lay struggling beneath him. 'Gouge him,' exchumed a dozen voices, 
the topmost combatant seized his victim by the hair and was preparing to follow the 



456 FIRST STEP TOWARDS HIGHER E'DUCATION. 

advice that was shouted in his ear, when the prostrate man, roused by desperation, 
and exerting a strength that seemed superhuman, caught his assailant by the throat 
with a grasp like that of fate. For a few moments the struggle seemed to cease, 
and then the face of the throttled man turned black, his tongue fell out of his mouth, 
and he rolled to the ground as senseless as a dead man. I turned away, a firm be- 
liever in the doctrine of total depravity." 

As early as 1780, five years after the first block-house was built in the "West, John 
Todd (whose untimely death on the fatal battle-field of the Blue Licks, August 19th, 
1782, robbed the country of one of its most far-sighted and gallant pioneers) took 
the first step towards the establishment of higher education in the West, by intro- 
ducing into the Legislature of Virginia, of which he was a member from the county 
of Kentucky, a bill to appropriate eight thousand acres of escheated lands, "which 
might at a future day be a valuable fund for the maintenance and education of youth, 
and it being the interest of this commonwealth always to promote and encourage 
every design which may tend to the improvement of the mind, and the diffusion of 
useful knowledge even among the most remote citizens, whose situation in a bar- 
barous neighborhood and a savage intercourse, might otherwise render unfriendly to 
science." In 1783, Judge Caleb Wallace followed up Colonel Todd's action by 
causing the passage through the Virginia Legislature of a more perfect bill, which 
appropriated twelve thousand acres of land for the establishment of a seminary of 
learning. 

Under the provisions of this act, Transylvania Seminary was started in the house 
of the Rev. David Rice, at Danville, with the Rev. James Mitchell, Mr. Rice's son- 
in-law, as its first teacher. Some years later the Seminary was removed to Lexing- 
ton, and afterwards grew into the Transylvania Universit}^ and became the nursing 
mother in letters, the arts and sciences, of many of the most eminent men whose 
services and fame brightened the history of the West. 

In 1798, the Legislature of Kentucky gave one hundred and fifty-six thousand 
acres of land as an endowment for twenty-six seminaries of learning, to be located 
in the twenty-six counties of the State, one in each, and provided that as new coun- 
ties were admitted, each of them should have its endowed seminary. 

I suppose that the first schoolmaster in Kentucky was John Filson, who, as I have 
said, was also its first historian and gave to the world the earliest story of Daniel 
Boone and his adventures. Mr. Ranck, in his admirable history of Lexington, states 
that Filson had a school there as early as 1782, at which time he was engaged in 



THE FIRST PRINTING-PRESS AND NEWSPAPER. 457 

writing, from the lips of the great hunter, the account of his life, which, together with 
his history, was published at Wilmington, Delaware, in 1784, and soon found its 
way to Europe, where it was reproduced in various forms, translated into several 
languages, and made a far wider impression than it did in this country. Notwith- 
standing his literary service to Kentucky, and the fact that with two associates. Den- 
man and Henderson, he owned and laid out the site of the city of Cincinnati, to which 
he gave the name of Losantiville {viUe or city, anti, against or opposite os, the mouth, 
of Licking Eiver), his name had well-nigh faded from the memory of men, but has 
been rescued by the diligence of Col, Reuben T. Durritt, whose interesting monograph 
of Filson and republication of his history and map have entitled him to the gratitude 
of all students of western history. Moreover, the name of the old pedagogue and 
land surveyor, poet, and historian, has been given to the Historical Society of Ken- 
tucky. 

In 1785, the Convention sitting at Danville resolved "that to insure unanimity in 
the opinion of the people respecting the propriety of separating the district of Ken- 
tucky from Virginia, and forming a separate State government, and to give publicity 
to the proceedings of the Convention, it is deemed essential to have a printing-press," 
and in the following year the Trustees of Lexington "ordered that the use of a public 
lot be granted to John Bradford, free, on condition that he establish a printing-press 
in Lexington." Bradford sent to Philadelphia for the material, but did not receive it 
until the following summer. When it did arrive, it was duly arranged, and on the 
11th day of August, 1787, the first number of the "Kentucke* Gazette" was given 
to the Blue-grass pioneers. It was a small, unpretentious sheet, scarcely as large as a 
half sheet of foolscap paper. Its contents comprised two short, original articles, one 
advertisement, and the following from the editor: "My customers will excuse this 
my first publication, as I am much hurried to get an impression by the time appointed. 
A great part of the types fell into pi in the carriage of them from Limestone 
(Maysville) to this office, and my partner, which is the only assistant I have, through 
an indisposition of the body, has been incapable of rendering the smallest assistance 
for ten days past. John Bradford." 

The honor of publishing the first newspaper west of the mountains belongs to 
John Scull, who, on the 29th of July, 1786, issued the first number of the Pitts- 
burg "Gazette," which now, after more than a century, continues to be a leading and 

* Keutucky was originally spelled with a final e. This was afterwards changed to y by the Legisla- 
ture of Virginia. 



458 SPECIMEN ADVERTISEMENTS. 

influential journal in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. Although its editor and pro- 
prietor was a staunch Federalist, he opened his columns to the contributions of the 
distinguished Eepublican, Judge H. H. Brackenridge, and one of the first books printed 
in the valley was the third volume of the Judge's once famous "Modern Chivalry," 
which came from the office of the "Gazette," in 1793. 

The Kentucky "Gazette" had a shorter lease of life, for its issue ceased at the end 
of sixty years. Its files are invaluable to the student of western history, and until 
the appearance of the Louisville "Journal," under the conduct of George D. Pren- 
tice, in 1830, John Bradford's paper was the most important sheet in the West. To- 
wards the close of his life, he contributed a series of articles to its columns, giving 
his recollections of men and events through forty stirring years. The paper was at 
first housed in a log-cabin covered by clapboards, and its only press a second-hand 
one, bought in Philadelphia, carried over the mountains on pack-horses to Pittsburg, 
thence on a flatboat to Limestone (now Maysville), and so to Lexington, running 
the gauntlet of Indian ambuscades and bullets. When set up and worked to its ut- 
most capacity, it could run off not more than from fifty to seventj^-five tiny sheets 
an hour. The editor's chair was a three-legged stool of his own manufacture, and 
his desk was of equally rude workmanship. When he wrote at night, it was by the 
flickering, sputtering light of a buffalo-tallow candle, or a greasy lamp fed by bear's 
oil, or by the blaze of a pine knot. An indispensable part of the ofiice furniture 
were a rifle, powder-horn, and bullet-pouch, that he might square accounts with 
ao-o-rieved subscribers who might seek redress in true western fashion. Among the 
advertisements may be noted those of spinning-wheels, knee-buckles, gun-flints, 
buck-skin for breeches, hair, powder, and saddlebag locks. A notice appeared in 
one of the early issues that, "persons who subscribed to the frame meeting-house 
can pav in cattle or whiskey," an evidence that two of the chief products of the 
famous Blue-grass region were even then legal tender. A notice was given that "a 
company will meet at Crab Orchard next Monday, for an earl}' start through the 
wilderness. Most of the delegates to the State Convention at Eichmond (to adopt 
the Constitution of the United States), Avill go with them." Another advertisement 
ran thus : "I will not pay a note given to Wm. Kerner, for three second-rate cows, till 
he returns a rifle, blanket, and tomahawk I loaned him . ' ' There was not a post-office in 
the whole district of Kentucky; the paper was taken to the different settlements by 
post-riders, and when it arrived, the best reader would mount a stump, and never stop 
until he had read the paper through, advertisements and all, to the assembled neighbor- 



CARD PLAYING AN EARTHQUAKE SCARE, 459 

hood. Bradford and Henry Clay, though generally on opposite sides of the polit- 
ical fence, were the warmest friends socially. In their younger days, like many other 
citizens of Kentucky, they were fond of cards, and their games were sometimes 
characterized by extravagant betting, which, however, was oftenerin fun than other- 
wise. At the close of an evening's play, upon summing up the result, it Avas found 
that Clay had won $40,000 from Bradford. Meeting the next day, Bradford said: 
"Cla}^ what are you going to do about that money you won last night? My entire 
property, you know, won't pay the half of it." 

"Oh, give me your note for $500," said Clay, "and let the balance go." 

The note was given, and a few nights later they were again at the card-table, and 
at the end of the game Bradford rose, the winner of $60,000. When they met the 
next day to settle, Bradford said, "Clay, give me back my note for $500, and we'll 
call it square." 

For years after settlements began west of the Alleghanies, Lexington was the 
great commercial center of the Ohio Valley. It was a place of importance wh«n 
Cincinnati was merely Fort Washington, and Louisville but a poor village, standing 
amid swamps and ponds. In 1800 it had 2,000 inhabitants, while Cincinnati had 
750, and bought most of its merchandise in Lexington. It was the first capital after 
Kentucky became a State, and being also the principal town in an immense region, 
there were drawn to it not only the most enterprising business men, but a large pro- 
portion of the wealth, intelligence, and culture of the new State. 

This burlesque account of Louisville was given after the great earthquakes which 
shook the Mississippi Valley in 1811-12. "In Louisville they have no church. 
When the first shock of the earthquake was felt, the people grew very devout in one 
night, and on the next day, Avith long faces, subscribed $1,000 to build a house of 
public worship. Thus the matter rested until the second shock came, when another 
devout paroxysm produced a second $1,000. It rested again until a third earthquake 
and devout fit produced another subscription to the same amount. The earthquake 
did not return, and nothing more was done about the church, but the people deter- 
mined to be merry, built a theater at a cost of $7,000, and employed a company of 
actors at $500 a week. The earthquakes have lately begun to shake Louisville again, 
but Avhether the people laugh or pray, I have not heard," 

Here is a description of Pittsburg in its early days, given by Arthur Lee, who vis- 
ited it on his way to treat with the Indians at Fort Mcintosh. "Pittsburg is inhab- 
ited almost entirely by Scots and Irish, who live in paltry log-houses, and are as dirty 



460 THE FOUNDING OF CINCINNATI. 

as if in the north of Irehind or even Scotland. There is a great deal of trade car- 
ried on ; the goods being brought at the vast expense of forty-five shillings per hun- 
dred, from Philadelphia and Baltimore. They take, in the shops, money, wheat, 
flour and skins. There are in the town four attorneys, two doctors, and not a priest 
of any persuasion, nor church, nor chapel. The rivers encroach fast on the town; 
and to such a degree that, as a gentleman told me, the Alleghany had within thirty 
years of his memory carried away one hundred yards. The place, I believe, will 
never be very considerable." 

The story of the founding of Cincinnati is thus told by Judge Burnett: "Through 
the influence of Judge Symmes, the detachment sent by General Harmar to erect a 
fort between the Miami Rivers for the protection of the settlers, landed at North 
Bend. This induced many of the first immigrants to repair to that place, on account 
of the expected protection which the garrison would afford. While the officer com- 
manding the detachment was examinino- the neighborhood to select the most eligible 
spot for a garrison, he became enamored with a beautiful, black-eyed female, who 
happened to be a married woman. The vigilant husband saw his danger, and imme- 
diately determined to remove with his family to Cincinnati, where he supposed they 
would be free from intrusion. As soon as the gallant ofiicer discovered that the ob- 
ject of his admiration had been removed beyond his reach, he began to think that 
the Bend was not an advantageous situation for a military work. This opinion he 
communicated to Judge Symmes, who contended strenuously that it was the most 
suitable spot in the Miami country, and protested against the removal. The argu- 
ments of the Judge, however, were not as influential as the sparkling eyes of the fair 
female who was then at Cincinnati. To preserve the appearance of consistency, the 
ofiicer agreed that he would defer a decision till he had explored the ground at and 
near Cincinnati ; and that if he found it to be less eligible than the Bend, he would 
return and erect the garrison at the latter place. The visit was quickly made, and 
resulted in a conviction that the Bend was not to be compared with Cincinnati. The 
troops were accordingly removed to that place, and the building of Fort Washington 
was commenced. This movement, apparently trivial in itself, and certainly pro- 
duced by a whimsical cause, was attended by results of incalculable importance. It 
settled the question at once, whether Symmes or Cincinnati was to be the great com- 
mercial town of the Miami purchase. This anecdote Avas communicated by Judge 
Symmes, and is unquestionably authentic. As soon as the troops removed to Cin- 
cinnati, and established the garrison, the settlers at the Bend, then more numerous 



EMERSON ON THE MARCH OF PROGRESS. 461 

than those at Cincinnati, began to remove; and in two or three years the Bend was 
literally deserted, and the idea of establishing a town at that point was abandoned. 

"Had the black-eyed beauty remained at the Bend, the garrison would have been 
erected there; population, capital, and business would have centered there, and our 
city must have been now of comparatively small importance." 

Mr. Emerson says: " 'Tis wonderful how soon a piano gets into a log-hut on the 
frontier. You would think they found it under a pine stump. With it comes a 
Latin grammar, and one of those tow-headed boys has written a hymn on Sunday. 
Now let colleges, now let senators take heed, for here is one, who, opening those fine 
tastes on the basis of the pioneer's iron constitution, will gather all their laurels in 
his strong hands. 

"When the Indian trail gets widened, graded and bridged to a good road, there is a 
benefactor, there is a missionary, a pacificator, a wealth-wringer, a maker of mar- 
kets, a vent for industry. Another step in civility is the change from war, huntino-, 
and pasturage to agriculture. Our Scandinavian forefathers have left us a sio-nifi- 
cant legend, to convey their sense of the importance of this step. There was once 
a giantess who had a daughter, and the child atiw a husbandman ploughino- in the 
field. Then she ran and picked him up with her finger and thumb, and put him and 
his plough and his oxen in her apron, and carried him to her mother and said; 
'Mother, what sort of a beetle is this that I found wriggling in the sand?' But the 
mother said, 'Put it away, my child ; we must be gone out of this land, for these 
people will dwell in it.' Another success is the post-ofiice, with its educating en- 
ergy, augmented by cheapness and guarded by a certain religious sentiment in man- 
kind ; so that the power of a wafer or a drop of wax or gluten to guard a letter, as it 
flies over sea and land and comes to its address as if a battalion of artillery brought 
it, I look upon as a fine meter of civilization." 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE WESTERN MIND. 
ITS MANIFESTATIONS, ELOQUENCE AND HUMOR. 



THE PROBLEM THAT FIRST CONFRONTED IT. FROM MATERIAL TO INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT. 

SKILL AS CONSTITUTION FRAMERS. PIONEER LAWS. MILITIA MUSTERS. THE STUMP- 

SPKECH. SPECIMEN SPEECHES. POWER OF THE STUMP-ORATOR ANALYZED. ITS LANGUAGE 

CORRESPONDS TO ITS THOUGHT. WIT AND HUMOR. EXAMPLES OF AN INDIAN JOKE. 

WESTERNISMS. A BISHOP'S VISIT. "THE WAY TO SPRINGFIELD.'" "NO TIME FOR SWAP- 

PIN' HOSSES.'" EASTERN AND WESTERN ELOQUENCE CONTRASTED. AN EMERSONIAN STORY. 

ANECDOTES. THE POLITICIANS. 

IN the valley was the breadth of a continent to subdue ; a wilderness to be reclaimed ; 
mountains to be scaled ; lakes, oceans and gulfs to be joined together ; and meantime 
the supplies for daily necessity and consumption to be raised and conveyed to market. 
Men must have bread before books, build barns before they establish colleges, learn 
the language of the rifle, the axe, and the plough, before they learn the lessons of 
Greek and Roman philosophy and history and to those pursuits was the early west- 
ern intellect obliged to devote itself, by a hearty and constant consecration. There 
was no possibility of escape ; no freedom or exemption from this obligation. The 
early settlers had to solve the imperative, instant questions of present need ; problems 
that were urging themselves upon their attention with every day, and with every re- 
curring season. When the forest was felled, the soil turned, and the granaries es- 
tablished, the mouths of wives and little ones filled, and their bodies clad, then might 
western intellect betake itself to the study and making of books. 

Agriculture, commerce, manufactures — the earliest practical problems of society 
— though now in more developed forms, must still be studied. The earliest settlers 
of our race established themselves in the West only in 1775. And how vast and 
various were the tasks which at once presented themselves to the new-comers, demand- 
ing instant and constant fulfillment, threatening death if neglected. A boundless 
territory, to which the land lying east of the mountains is scarce more than a drop 

462 



FROM MATERIAL TO INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT. 463 

in the bucket, was to be wrested by steady and long-continued labor from the domin- 
ion of nature, freed from savage beasts and men, and made the fruitful home of 
civilized society. Tillable fields, homes, gardens, towns, were all to be acquired by a 
series of laborious victories over the opposing forces of nature. 

Again : the men who did this must also create and maintain the structure of social 
life, by framing something— whether rude or elaborate, matters not so much — but 
something in the nature of a body of laws, and a system of government. The crude 
and scanty means of educating the young and preaching the Gospel were also to be 
afforded. 

And still further : all this had to be done in the presence of perils dreadful beyond 
anything conceivable b}^ the citizens who now dwell so securely under the shadow of 
strong municipal and State organizations, and whose very recital makes the flesh 
creep and the blood run cold. I mean the Indian and British hostilities, which 
were so long a terrible and incessant drain upon the vigor and the very life-blood of 
the infant western commonwealths. Such requirements drew heavily upon the 
functions of body, mind, and heart; chiefly, however, upon the first. For the first 
task of a new nation is for the muscles and sinews. Only when this is fulfilled, comes 
the demand upon the brain and soul. 

But the western people have been steadily rising in the path thus indicated, for 
many years. In common with the older communities east of the mountains, they have 
been advancing in the pilgrimage of humanity, up from the region of muscular devel- 
opment and animal activity, to that of intellectual and moral culture. Such progress 
can never be rapid. Life's great tasks are not achieved in a hurry. Personal cul- 
ture is the work of time; and it is only in him who" descends from aline of cultivated 
ancestors, that the highest exhibiton of human attainments, ordinarily speaking, is 
possible. Much more is this true of a race — of a nation. 

Around the early settler lay the broad shadows of the primeval forests. Beneath 
him was the rich turf that had never been disturbed by a coulter, where only the deaf en- 
ingyell, the savage war-whoop, had disturbed the silence, and the dreadful carnage of 
savage warfare had discolored the soil. He possessed broad streams, matchless in 
beauty, and a soil rich beyond measure ; vacant, only awaiting occupancy, and return- 
ing the largest product and profit to the tiller's energy and industry. In this lovely 
country, cabin homes were to be erected, and the forms of social and civil organiza- 
tion to be established. 



464 



SKILL AS CONSTITUTION FRAMERS. 



These things were rapidly done. A government was erected — that government whose 
blessings we now enjoy — where every man, the humblest, the poorest, where ever}' 
child, though an outcast and alien, sit secure beneath the broad and certain aegis of 
our national liberties, jurisprudence and police. We have whittled out Constitutions 
for forty-four States. The vast genius and learning, the still vaster skill and talent, 
all the combined energies of France, month after month, and year after year, en- 
deavored to construct a Constitution ; and how it has failed. It failed first a little 

after our own Constitution went into 
successful operation ; and it has been 



failing almost ever since. But what 



we have to show is a noble result of the 
labor of a nation's brain. If we had 
never written a book, if we had never 
penned a line save those which are 
found in our Congressional debates, and 
statute-books and Constitutions, I take 
it that we have, nevertheless, built one 
of the grandest intellectual pyramids 
the sun ever yet shone upon. This is 
not a tribute to national vanity; it is a 
just statement of a part of a nation's 
work. 

The settlers, hardy, intrepid, unkempt, 
unwashed backwoodsmen betook them- 
selves to their business as law-makers. 
And in this, as in every other business, 
they proceeded with a certain eagerness, 
a kind of rapt enthusiasm. If they 
were to be law-makers, they would 
be law-makers in deed, and in truth; and there should be no child's play. 
The laws might be simple, and even seasoned with a spice of grim comicality, 
but they were stringent, direct, and effective. There was one, for example, at 
an early day in Kentucky, that no man should be allowed to remain in that region 
who had not some visible and honorable means of support. Every man must have 
some work to do, and must be doing it, sufficient to procure him mone}^, or the money's 
worth, in order to live. There came into the village of Washington a young man, 




THE YOUNG MAN WITH THE GREASY PACK OF CARDS. 



NO PLACE FOR IfiLERS. 4(}5 

who seemed to have no employment. His hands were in his pockets, and his mouth 
puckered into a whistle. Some of the elders informed him that he must find occupa- 
tion, or that he had better go to some other and idler country. But he fancied that 
they were old fogies, who set an absurd over-value on their laws, and not to be 
heeded. In his pocket was the secret of his living — a pack of greasy cards, into the 
mystery of the manipulation of which he proposed to initiate the young men of the 
place; winning their money, corrupting their morals; and then to "crano- his ain 
gait" as a missionary of the devil, to other regions, to repeat the operation. At the 
expiration of the notice, a writ was served upon him by an officer, and he was carried 
to the "jug," as they metaphorically called the jail. Having deposited him for safe 
keeping, due advertisement was made, and the young man, in pursuance of the quaint 
penalty attached to this law, was marched to the public square, and set up on the 
horse block, where the sheriff, as auctioneer, knocked him down to the hio-hest 
bidder. This was the village blacksmith, who forthwith put a chain around his leo- 
and took him to his smithy, where for three months, from sun to sun, our youno- 
friend was inducted, with some exertion on the blacksmith's part, and much more on 
his own, into the whole art and mystery of blowing and striking. At the expiration 
of his time, the young man, liberated from his confinement, shook off the dust of 
that town from his shoes, and as he turned his back to the place, swore it was the 
meanest country a white man ever got into. 

The laws may have been strict, and the execution of them swift and stringent 
enough ; for oftentimes the only sheriff was the ready rifle, resting upon the pom- 
mel of the saddle, and the only judge, the awful Judge Lynch, who held his dread 
tribunal under the shadow of the first tree, and whose decrees were executed without 
appeal, bill of exceptions, new trial, recommitment, respite or pardon, by stalwart 
men who swung the culprit up by a rope over the branch of a tree, instantly after 
judgment was given. 

The law of these new countries, whether codified and written by select wise men 
or dictated by the clear but rough conclusions of the untutored, shrewd conscience 
and common sense of the community, must be enforced, and judgments under it ex- 
ecuted. For laws not enforced are hot-beds of crime. The case here was urofent, 
the pressure instant; and the conduct of such courts of "Regulators" as commonly 
administered this prompt, rude justice, though it seems harsh and barbarous, was, in 
truth, the only possible means of securing any legal sanctions, any punishment for 
30 



166 



THE MILITIA MUSTERS. 



guilt, or protection for innocence. For the new settlements were an Alsatia, to which 
gathered all the vagabonds, ruffians, swindlers, thieves, criminals of every name, 
whose evil deeds had made the older settlements too hot to hold them, and Avho 
trusted to renew a safer course of guilt among the wnld forests and thinly scattered 
settlements. Society must and will protect itself; and until better means are pro- 
vided, it will use those wdiich are at hand. It 
has alwaj's been so since Cain, the murderer, 
felt that every man that found him Avould slay 
him ; since the hand of every man was against 
the first outlaw, Ishmael ; down to the day wdien 
we have seen great cities rid, only by such rude 
and lamentable means, of bands of villains. 

Besides the law-makins; or law-enforcing as- 
semblies of the rude foresters, whether more or 
less formal, the militia musters afforded another 
opportunity for these social and genial people to 
gather themselves together. There w^as fight- 
ing, and desperate fighting, too, in their midst 
or on their borders, for half a century and more 
after their first settlements. This long exper- 
ience resulted in a decided tendency to military 
organizations and amusements ; and these drills 
and gatherings were punctual!}^ attended, and all 
the exercises of the occasion strictly and ear- 
■^_ nestly obeyed, both on account of their vast 
practical importance, and as a gratification of 
their military instincts. Such "public band- 
ings," as they were called by a local synonym 
of the "trainings" and "musters" of other States, and all similar gatherings, w^ere 
eagerly made use of by politicians — a class of men wdio early became numerous and 
active in the West. 

Perhaps this circumstance may be said to have produced the first manifestations of 
western mind, and one of its most prominent and characteristic ones, viz: oral polit- 
ical addresses — stump-speeches, so called. This name was derived from the plat- 




CARRYING THE MAIL. 



STUMP-ORATORS. 



467 



form most commonly used by the orators of the backwoods, whose actual or intended 
constituents could not be troubled with the elaborate niceties of desks or boarded 
rostrums, and who, by a natural ascent, usually occupied a stump, the convenient 
Pnyx of every county square or court-house green. These ambitious aspirants, com- 
monly not much if at all more learned than their rugged auditor}^, and superior to 
them onlv in shrewdness, or desire of oiEce, or impudence, or all, neither heeded nor 
could use any subtle trains of reasoning or sublimities of thought. Excessive tume- 
factions of speech often collapsed ignominiously at the prick of some stinging joke, 
probably bearing no particular relation to 
the speech, and applicable only because suc- 
cessful. Thus, a well-known anecdote of one 
of these windy gentlemen relates that he was 
quite overthrown at the summit of a gorgeous 
flight of eloquence, and left to slink dumb- 
founded from the stage, because an unscru- 
pulous adversary of tropes and figures bawled 
out at his back, "Guess he wouldn't talk 
quite so hifalutenatin' if he knowed how his 
breeches was torn out behind." The horri- 
fied orator, deceived for the instant, clapped 
a hand to the part indicated, and was over- 
whelmed in inextinijuishable laughter. 

But a trifling misadventure did not always 
upset the speaker. Thus one of them, who 
had let fly that favorite fowl of orators, 
the American eagle, was tracing his mag- 
nificent flight into the uppermost empyrean ; he followed the wondrous bird 
with ecstatic eye and finger raised; and as he cried out, "Don't you see him, fellow- 
citizens, a risin' higher and higher," — an unsophisticated "fellow-citizen," in his 
simplicity, supposing that there was a real eagle, and gazing intently in vain to be- 
hold him, sang out, "Well, I can't see him, stranger." "Hoss," exclaimed the 
speaker, transfixing the matter-of-fact man with his gaze and gesture, and speaking 
in the same oratorical magnificence of tone, — "Hoss, I was speakin' in a figger." 
And off he went again with his eagle, his promptness and seriousness in the two 
transitions effectually shutting out any ridicule. 




THE BOY OF THE FRONTIEK PEltlOD. 



468 - POWER OF THE STUMP-ORATOR ANALYZED. 

This audience was of men whose physique had been cultivated at the expense of 
their intellect; whose sense was not proper, but common ; whose knowledge had not 
come from books, but from the hard necessities and incessant exertions of a labori- 
ous and perilous life. The speaker then must use their vernacular — a vernacular 
which we would think vulgar — and his metaphors and similes, if he used them at all, 
must be such as would readily penetrate beneath their tangled hair, and find lodg- 
ment in their brains. And he must, at the same time, appeal to their feelings; for 
the emotions exercise a quicker and surer power over the intellect, than the intellect 
over the emotions. He could not stand still and merely emit his words as a fountain 
l^assively pours out water, for he who would move his audience must be moved him- 
self. It would never do for him to stand and read a written paper, first looking at 
the audience and then back to the manuscript. 

It is the eye that wields the speaker's power over an assembly. If you would af- 
fect any man, your eye must meet his. If you would transfuse into him 3^our 
thought, feeling, passion, imagination, poetry, if, in a word, you would pour your 
life into him, your eye must meet his; in the forcible old scripture phrase, you must 
see "eye to eye." And as it is with one man, so it is with many. For the manner 
of the word is powerful, much more than the word itself. It is not the brain which 
produces the result, it is the will, the soul behind it; the manner of the speaking 
clothes the words with whatever of power or beauty is exerted or shown by the 
speaker. It is the power of the orator, accordingly, his earnestness, his profound 
conviction, his intense realization of the truth, his yearning desire to transfer his 
consciousness of it to the hearers, which throws it red hot into their hearts and 
minds. They receive it; and the sensation or emotion which spreads among them as 
he speaks, flashes back to him from their kindling eyes; and the strength which he 
has sent out to them comes back to him, grown gigantic with the strength of 
thousands ; and now he speaks in the power of a thousand souls instead of one, and 
the flux and reflux of mutual influence, as managed for his purposes by the intellect 
of the speaker, thus becomes the means and the measure of his power over himself 
and them. Thus it is that the rude fellow upon the barbarous backwoods hustings, 
who overflows with language ungrammatical and unrhetorical, whose address fairly 
bristles with odd phrases and border lingo, becomes a prophet clothed in super- 
natural power, and leads his audience, willing captives, withersoever he lists; till, like 
the ancient Franks when they made a king, they bear him on their shoulders to his 
triumph. 



ITS LANGUAGE CORRESPONDS TO ITS THOUGHT. 409 

Such a people, not trained to logic nor disciplined in reasoning; who proceed by 
common sense, practical prudence, ordinary business forecast, and acquaintance with 
the men and things and principles of every-day life, yet of excitable passions and feel- 
ings, and who are only to be effectually appealed to by a speaker of the kind I have 
attempted to describe, and who is, in their phrase, "dead in earnest," are passing 
through a mental discipline preliminary to the higher walks of literature, and to the 
development of the nobler moral faculties. 

And this first manifestation of western mind, — in their peculiar spoken eloquence, 
is always the same ; whether before a jury, on the stump, at the camp-meeting, at a 
militia muster, a house-raising, a log-rolling, a Avedding or a quilting, — for the con- 
stituency is always the same. The man who would move them, would fuse their 
minds into one homogenous subjection to his will, no matter what his subordinate or 
collateral attainments, must always have these elementary powers ; the power to say 
whatever he has to say clearly and forcibly, and the power of saying it with the 
strength of conviction, earnestness and intense enthusiasm. 

The men of the East, trained to a colder style of speech, who demand a reason for 
every thought submitted to them ; who have had the discipline of two studious and 
orderly centuries this side the Atlantic; who are under the organic influence of so 
many generations, dwelling among churches and school-houses and printing-presses — 
a discipline which is a great privilege, a benign heritage, — can scarcely conceive and 
could not at all comprehend the influence which one of these western orators exerts 
upon his audience, or its gladdening effect upon his own nature; nor how the people 
gather and throng around him and revel in his speech as an unbought, unpurchasable 
pleasure, one of the rarest of life. 

This rough people, born and bred in the wilderness, has, after the universal human 
fashion, expressed a characteristic and interesting representation of its traits and 
tendencies in its language. For there is a western Anglo-American language, cor- 
responding singularly and strictly with the western style of thought and the char- 
acter of western men. This language is thickly studded with rude, proverbial forms, 
redundant with wild, untrained metaphors, cant and slang, which have usually sprung 
spontaneously out of the associations or necessities of the speakers' lives, and with 
a meaning often quaintly and curiously expressed. Or, again, they are as freely and 
naturally the outgrowth of the minds that produce them, as is the luxuriant cane of 
the rich soil of the brakes ; not drawn or pressed forth by forces from outside, but 
the fantastic blossoms of untaught, spontaneous thought. 



470 



LOVE OF FUN AND MATRIMONY. 



To this western language, as well as to the thought that threw it out, fun and 
humor gave a color almost predominant. Even in the hardest and sternest periods 
of their history, when the crack of the rifle and whiz of the tomahawk were con- 
stantly in their ears, they relished fun to the last and most exquisite degree. A vein 
of humor ran through all the nature of this people. They might seem stern, even 
savage ; sombre, and even sorrowful ; self-possessed and quiet ; and all these they 
were, at times, perhaps often, but not constantly. They were moved by the influence 
of the occasion, and carried out from these serious frames of mind. They were 
jovial and fun-loving, always; and whatever their circumstances, they would have, 
from time to time, a season of such utter, heartfelt relaxation as seemed to border on 
license; where the most uproarious jollity and glee was the order of the day. There 
is a curious entry in the diary of George Rogers Clarke, made during a visit to 

Kentucky, at a time when the whites were suffering 
greatly from the attacks of the savages, showing how 
this characteristic struck 
the hardy soldier: "25th 
July, 1776. Lieut. Lynn 
was married this day at 
Harrod's Station" — re- 
member that in allthatyear 
there was not a day when 
the neighborhood of Har- 
rod's Station was free from J ■ 




THE COLORED OVERSEER. 




the presence of hostile sav- 



ages — "and the merry-making was absolutely marvelous. 



ONE OF UIS SUBJECTS. 

' Old Bishop Asbury, 
who made a journey into the same region in 1783 or 1784, while the Indian 
fighting was still going on, and the people were pressed to the uttermost, says : 
"It is marvelous to see how the desire for matrimony reigneth in this coun- 
try." The entrances upon these matrimonial speculations, so heartily ventured upon 
by the young people — by the girls generally at fifteen and the boys at seventeen — 
were invariably made the occasions for the jolliest and most thorough-going fun. 

The negroes were ex-officio, as ever, lovers of jokes, and often, even in time of war, 
were as cool and as inclined to jollity as their reckless masters. One, who was out 
with his master and a band of foresters in hot pursuit of a party of Indians who had 
committed an outrage upon some lonely cabin or block-house, made an observation 



SPECIMEN JOKES FROM "SAMBo" AND '^LO." 471 

which Still remains on record; a simple speech enough, but which may serve to 
illustrate my point. The pursuers gained sight of the Indians while descendino- a 
hill. As the foremost of the whites was hastening forward, closely followed by the 
warhke Sambo, the captain of the whites, observing that the Indians greatly out- 
numbered his force, gave the low whistle, which was the signal for retreat. Sambo, 
however, heedless of the unwelcome order of recall, pressed on down the hill with his 
white companion, and taking shelter in a thicket, observed an immense Indian peer- 
ing above the hill beyond, to reconnoitre the position of the pursuers, his head just 
visible from behind the trunk of a tree. Sambo raised his rifle and blazed away at 
him, singing out at the top of his voice, "Dar, take dat to remember Sambo, the 
black white man," and then retraced his steps. 

Even the Indians, usually reckoned so sombre and saturnine a race, were by no 
means destitute of a dry and quaint humor. Indeed, it is beyond doubt that in the 
social security of their far and peaceful homes in the wilderness, they laughed, and 
chatted, and joked, and sung, and told stories with as much glee, and careless, happy 
delight, as any civilized circles. But though the indications of their possession of 
wit and humor are equally well authenticated, they are much rarer. A specimen of 
Indian humor, without any such intention on the part of the savage, was a remark 
made by one of them while the fearful earthquakes of 1811 and 1812 were devas- 
tating the valleys of the Mississippi and Ohio, and the wildest and most terrific 
freaks of nature were being exhibited in many portions of that vast area. While 
New Madrid seemed sinking bodily into the abyss, and the bed of the Mississippi 
River was undergoing the absolute change of location, its great floods rushing 
through the monstrous chasms which opened a new and strange path for the waters, 
while the great trees were rocking to and fro, trembling and falling, and the earth 
gaped in bottomless rents, the savage stood cool and stoical, his arms folded upon 
his breast, gazing upon the scene. A white man addressed him with the inquiry, 
"What do you make of all this? What do these things mean?" The Indian, sor- 
rowfully enough, and as if the last prop of his hopes here and hereafter were gone, 
thus delivered a most original and aboriginal theory of earthquakes: "Great Spirit 
got whiskey too much." 

The wild life of the borderers naturally occasioned the coining of many singular 
words and phrases. These, like many of the idioms and modes of speech peculiar to 
the Indians, were the result, not of imagination, but of a poverty of language. It is 
common to descant upon the poetry and eloquence of the Indians ; and the celebrated 



472 



INDIAN ORATORY. 



speech of Logan is often mentioned, as Jefferson mentioned it, as almost unparalleled 
in the records of ancient and modern oratory. Yet, it may be questioned whether 
those words ever passed Logan's lips. And if they did, although it is true that they 
are pre-eminent among specimens of Indian oratory, it is still true of that oratory, in 
general, that its poetical phrases and ever-recurring formulas and figures and imper- 
sonations are few in number, and monotonously repeated. Their language possessed 
no words — or almost none — for the expression of abstract ideas ; nor did it contain 
words of high intellectual significance, or deep ethical meaning. Even for concep- 
tions as ordinary as "prosperous circumstances," "afliuence," or "a season of re- 




THE TYPICAL RURAL COMBINATION— CHURCH, SCHOOL-HOUSE, AND CEMETERY. 

markable enjoyment," they had no better form of expression than "a sunshiny day," 
or "a day as placid as the bosom of a lake." Such terms as these, or those well- 
known expressions of "burying the hatchet," "brightening the chain of friendship," 
and the like, although to those unacquainted with them seeming poetic enough, are 
in truth the meager products of the barest poverty of thought. 

It was this dry and meager form of language which drove both Indians and Anglo- 
American borderers to the use of analogous terms, whose inappropriateness often 
renders them quaint or even witty, where no such effect was intended. There is in 
print a well-known Avrit issued by an Indian justice of the peace, long ago, in Massa- 



WESTERNISMS. 473 

chusetts, which illustrates my point. It ran thus : "I, Hihoudi. You, Peter Water- 
man. Jeremy Wicket. Quick you take him, fast you hold him, straight you bring 
him before me. Hihoudi." A close parallel to this was the proclamation of the 
western sheriff, at the beginning and ending of court. As the ermined judge as- 
cended the tribunal, this matter-of-fact functionary bawled out, "O yes, O yes, court 
am open." And when the labors of the day were over, he proclaimed again with 
genuine western adherence to sense and logic, and disregard of form, the substance 
of the fact, thus: "O yes, O yes, court am shet." 

Thus, I repeat, many of the expressions of the western borderers which seem to us im- 
aginative, humorous, or ludicrous, though in some cases, perhaps, derived from ances- 
tors or ancestral peculiarities, were usually adopted as the first which came to hand when 
the new idea to be expressed arose asking for a word. The foresters had no training 
in language, and no habitude in abstract thought, or in modifying and distinguishing 
notions. But they had abundant readiness and self-reliance, and when they wanted 
a new word they either took an old one and modified it into a new one, much on the 
principle which forced their wives to make one utensil serve as wash-basin, kettle 
and dish; or they manufactured one out of whole cloth, often in ridiculous exem- 
plification of that figure of speech to which the grammarians have given the clumsy 
name of ono^natopoeia : namely, making the sound suggest the sense. 

The former of these two methods made words like "spontenaceous" for spontane- 
ous ; "obfusticate" for obfuscate; "cantankerous" for cankerous; "rampagious" 
or ramj)unctious" for rampant; "highfalutin" or "highfalutinatin" for high-flying; 
"tetotaciously" for totally; and the like. The latter resulted in terms having often 
a ludicrous similarity to proper English words of the long Latin kind, but utterly 
unfounded in fact ; the merest phantoms of a raw, absurd and unconscious fancy. 
Such are "sockdolager" for a knock-down blow; "explatterate," to crush or smash ; 
"explunctify," for the same; "honey-fuggle," to hang about one and flatter him 
for mean purposes; and so on. 

Here are some other words and phrases which smack of the border. To "absquat- 
ulate" is to run away, and, therefore, the return made on his writ by a sheriff who 
had been in fruitless search of a criminal, ^^Absqiiatulandum, in swompo, non come- 
atibus.'" "He came out the same hole he went in at," is the description of an illogi- 
cal and ineffectual argument. "That's a huckleberry above my persimmon," states 
the unattainable. "Taking the rag off the bush," is clever achievement. A frontiers- 
man who attended an Episcopal church for the first time, said, "The parson done 



474 THE "COOLEST FELLER," AND THE MEANEST MAN. 

pretty well, considering that he wore a woman's frock, and shot with a rest." The 
following is a bully's bit of brag: "He allowed he was powerful ambitious, and 
cussed snorting, for he was full of red-eye, and if that dogoned dratted skeezicks 
didn't make tracks across lots quicker'n chain lightnin', he'd be dodrotted if he 
would'nt cattawumpsiously chaw him up, till there wasn't a grease spot of him left." 
"To cut a splurge," meant, to put on airs, and "to cut a big swathe," to do the same 
thing, or to act in an effectual way. "Truck or plunder," was used for goods and 
chattels. More often their humor found expression in extravagance and hj^perbole, of 
which a few examples follow : 

"Jim Smith was fur sartin the coolest feller in the country. He had a little one-room 
cabin on the banks of the Mississip, an' one night as he sot cleanin' his rifle, one side o' 
the fire, and Matty, his wife on the other, knittin', the' cum a terrible explosion out 
on the river, an' the next minute somethin' cum plum through the roof, an' dropped 
at their feet, right between 'em, without disturbin' either. Jim went on a cleanin' 
his gun, an' Matty, she kep' knittin'. The stranger — fur it was a man — was a little 
dazed at fust, but gittin' up, he squinted at the hole in the roof, an', says he, 'Well, 
my man, what's the damage?' Jim put down his rifle, took a careful look at the 
hole, figured a while, an', says he, 'ten dollars.' 'You be hanged,' said the trav- 
eller, 'last week I was blown up in another steamboat, opposite St. Louis, and fell 
through three floors of a new house, and they only charged me five dollars. No, no, 
my, man, I know what the usual figure is in such cases. Here's two dollars; if that 
won't do, sue me as quick as you please.' " 

"There wasn't a meaner man in the Hoosier State, than old Squire M. — a most un- 
scrupulous and greedy old sinner. Every chance he got he'd appropriate his neigh- 
bors' hogs, cattle, and sheep, claiming them as his own, pick flaws in their title deeds, 
and cheat them out of their lands, and by such practices became rich. Whenever 
his neighbors thus aggrieved, threatened to go to law, or to whip him, he became 
conciliatory, and paying a visit to the party of the other part, would say: 'Now, 
look here, tain't worth while for me and you to get into no fight; one or the other 
of us might get hurt, or be killed. That wouldn't settle nothin', and as to goin' to 
law, why, the lawyers 'ud just eat us out o' house and home. All I want's jestice. 
That's what j^ou want, ain't it? Yes, I knowed so. Well, I motion we referee this 
thino;. You choose two men, I'll choose three, and will abide by what they say, and 
call the thing square.' " 

Much of this humor crystalizes about the colored brother as a center. 



SPECIMENS OF NEGRO HUMOR. 475 

Here is one that Mr. Lincoln used to delio;ht in telling: 

"A negro preacher, who had wrought his congregation to the highest pitch of ex- 
citement, was carried away by his feelings, and shouted, 'My brethren, dar's jist two 
ways fru dis wicked world. One ob dem leads to death, de odder to destruction.' 
'Whe-e-ew,' yelled one of the congregation, 'den dis chile takes to de woods.'" 

These two are not Lincoln's, but as good: 

"A little colored Baptist preacher was immersing a number of converts in a fast 
flowing river with shelving bank. Among the candidates was a big, burly fellow, too 
heavy for the minister to handle, so that after the immersion the parson was unable 
to raise the subject out of the water, and lost his hold upon him. After a severe 
struggle, the convert got to his feet, and shaking himself in a violent manner to get 
the water out of his eyes, nose, ears and mouth, as soon as he could get his breath, 
screamed in an excited manner: 'Look heah, you'd better quit this 'ere foolishness; 
de fust ting you know you'll drown some gentleman's valuable thousan' dollah nig- 
gah.'" 

"Another colored preacher in Texas was immersing a number of candidates, and a 
negro girl, not a member of his flock, but deeply interested in the spectacle, had 
pressed up to the spot where the minister received and returned the convert. Taking 
it for granted that she was a candidate, he seized and held her by a firm grasp, and 
supposing that her shrieks and struggles proceeded from nervousness and a dread of 
the water, carried her in and performed his office. As soon as she was on dry land 
and could regain her voice, she yelled, 'What you about dar? I'se none o' your 
common Baptis' niggahs, gwine undah de watah: I'se a Methodist, I is, an' was 
baptized by a bishop when I was a baby.' " 

Speaking of which reminds me of the visit of a Methodist bishop to a great plan- 
tation in the old days. Holding service in the chapel of the quarter, where hundreds 
of negroes were present, at the close of the sermon, he proceeded with the office of 
the baptism of infants, and had named a score or more. At length, coming to a 
mother who stuttered and was at the same time nervous, in answer to his demand, 
"Name this child," she gasped out what he understood to be "Lucifer." "Luci- 
fer," he exclaimed, "who ever heard of such a name for a Christian chikl. George 
Washington, I bap — " when he was interrupted by her agonizing shriek, "Stop, 
thir, stop, ith a girl. Ithaid Luthy, thir." 

A clerical friend, riding through an Illinois grove, lost his way, and seeing a native 
lounging beside his door, hailed, and asked how far it was to Springfield. "To 



476 "NO TIME FOR SWAPPIN' HOSSES." 

Springfield," repeated the man, shuffling down the path, "wal, nigh as I can kalki- 
late, if you keep on that road it's ahnost twenty-three thousand nine hundred 
and ninety-four miles, but if you turn your hosse's head and go t'other way, you'll 
reach it in about six miles." 

"Standing on the banks of a swollen stream of the West, I saw a man crossing 
over to me by holding on to the tail of his mare, which was followed by a colt of 
three or four years. When half way over, the mare began to flounder and sink, and 
it was evident would be unable to reach shore. 'Change, change,' cried the by- 
standers, 'leave the mare and take to the colt.' 'No, you don't,' exclaimed the man, 
'this 'ere aint no time for swappin' bosses,' Next moment mare and man went 
under but were eventually saved by being swept upon an island below." 

Many of the figures of speech and forms of rhetoric which characterize western 
eloquence, partake of the same bombastic character; this, however, of course, not be- 
ing true of the best western orators. And all these words, and figures and sentences, 
while they possess .a show of poetical or imaginative character, with more or less of 
its actual essence, are, nevertheless, as a whole, the products of deplorable and extreme 
barrenness of mind and poverty of thought. 

But with the gradual growth of population, wealth, refinement and education, there 
was, of course, a change; the phraseology and the intellect of the people improved 
and developed together. This change was brought about, in great measure, by 
means of the increasing frequency of public speaking. And we must not judge of 
the power exerted upon the people, nor the good done them, merely by estimating 
the amount of positive information furnished by the speaker, and his grade of intel- 
ligence. It is from the stimulation which their natures experienced from his pour- 
ing out and rendering up to them of the treasures of his own life and soul, that the 
abiding profit of his work was derived. The rude speeches and sermons of the West 
tasked and stimulated the intellects of the people, and set their minds in motion. 
The steam was turned on; and when that was done, the engine must move forward 
or backward, or else explode. It may be admitted — to carry out the figure — that an 
explosion has sometimes happened, but, on the whole, the general result has been a 
movement ahead. As was to be expected, there was undue emphasis, exaggeration, 
violence, and exceeding heat. But from this noisy fermentation has come, after all, 
a style of eloquence which has become distinctively American. The spoken eloquence 
of New England is, for the most part, from manuscript. Her first settlers brought 
old world forms and fashions with them. Their preachers were set at an appalling 



HIS PRAYER WAS ANSWERED. -477 

distance from their congregations. Between the pulpit, perched far up toward the 
ceiling, and the seats, was an abysmal depth. Above the lofty desk was dimly seen 
the white cravat, and above that, the head of the preacher. His eye was averted and 
fastened upon his manuscript, and his discourse delivered in a monotonous cadence, 
probably relieved from time to time by some quaint blunder, the result of indistinct 
penmanship, or dim religious light. It was not this preacher's business to arouse his 
audience. The theory of the worship of that period was opposed to that. Her peo- 
ple did not wish excitement or stimulus, astonishment or agitation. They simply 
desired information ; they wished to be instructed ; to have their judgment informed, 
or their reasons enlightened. Thus the preacher might safely remain perched in his 
far distant, unimpassioned eyrie. 

Mr. Emerson tells this story : 

Dr. Charles Chauncy was born over a hundred years ago, a man of marked ability 
among the clergy of New England. But when once going to preach the Thursday 
lecture in Boston (which, in those days, people walked from Salem to hear), on go- 
ing up the pulpit stairs he was informed that a little boy had fallen into Frog Pond 
on the common and was drowned ; the doctor was requested to improve the sad occa- 
sion. The doctor was much distressed, and in his prayer he hesitated; he tried to 
make soft approaches ; he prayed for Harvard College ; he prayed for the schools ; 
he implored the Divine Being "to-to-bless to them all the boy that was drowned in 
Frog Pond." He so disliked the ''sensation" preaching of his time that he once 
prayed that "he might never be eloquent," and it appears that his prayer was 
granted. 

The effect of the New England manner of preaching upon a western man is illus- 
trated by the criticism of Peter Cartwright on the young man who delivered a writ- 
ten sermon, that "it made him think of a gosling that had got the straddles by 
wading in the dew." What western eloquence is, can scarcely be conceived, except 
by those who have heard it. 

Mr. Emerson says: "The orator is he whom every man is seeking when he goes 
into the courts, into the conventions, into any popular assembly, though often dis- 
appointed, never giving over the hope. He finds himself, perhaps, in the Senate, 
when the forest has cast out some wild black-browed bantling to show the same energy 
in the crowd of officials which he had learned in driving cattle to the hills, or in 
scramblino; through thickets in a winter forest, or throuixh the swamp and river for 
his game. In the folds of his brow, in the majestj' of his mien. Nature has marked 



478 EMERSON ON ORATORS. 

her son; and in that artificial, and, perhaps, unworthy jjhice and company, shall re- 
mind 3^ou of the lessons taught him in earlier days by the torrent in the gloom of the 
backwoods, when he was the companion of the mountain cattle, of jnys, and foxes, 
and a hunter of the bear. Or you may find him in some lonely Bethel by the sea- 
side, where a hard-featured, scarred and wrinkled Methodist becomes the poet of the 
sailor and the fisherman, whilst he pours out the abundant streams of his thought 
through a language all glittering and fiery with imagination ; a man who never knew 
the looking-glass or the critic, a man whom college drill or patronage never made, 
and whom praise cannot spoil, a man who conquers his audience by infusing his soul 
into them, and speaks by the right of being the person in the assembly who has the 
most to say, and so makes all other speakers appear little and cowardly before his 
face. For the time his exceeding life throws all other gifts into the shade, philos- 
ophy, speculating on its own breath, taste, learning, and all; and yet how every 
listener gladly consents to be nothing in his presence, and to share this surprising 
emanation, and be steeped and ennobled in the new wine of this eloquence. It in- 
structs in the power of man over men ; that a man is a mover to the extent of his 
being a power, and in contrast with the efficiency he suggests, our actual life and society 
appears a dormitory. Who can wonder at its influence on the young and ardent 
minds? Uncommon boys follow uncommon men, and I think every one of us can 
remember when our first experiences made us for a time the victim and worshipper 
of the first master of this art whom we happened to hevar in the court-house or in 
the caucus." 

As I have already quoted a negro as affording an instance of the grim and cool 
humor characteristic of his western home, if not of his own tropical blood, so I cite 
another as having, in a brief and homely description, exemplified a high order of 
rude, natural eloquence. This was a preacher who was endeavoring to set forth the 
attributes of the Almighty, and who summed up the mysterious and awful powers of 
the unknown God in a single sentence: "He totes the thunder in his fist, and flings 
the liolitnino; from his fingers." 

THE POLITICIANS. 

These gentlemen are not unknown in the East, but there was a certain flavor of 
the soil, a familiar quality in the western variety, that rendered them siii generis. 
Governor Reynolds thus sketches them: 

"They formed a distinct class, as they have continued to do. Special legislation 
flourished in those days. Almost everything was done from personal motives. A 



AN ORATOR WORTHY OF HIS THEME. 479 

man Avho by his smooth, sleek, supple, friendly manner, his tact and address, could 
make the most friends, and the most skillful combinations of individual interests, 
was the most successful in accomplishing his purpose. The people had a slano- lan- 
guage expressive of the achievements of these political heroes. They were said to 
carry a gourd of ' 'possum fat,' with which to 'grease' the members. The easy, 
credulous fools who became their victims, were said to have been 'greased and swal- 
lowed.' A man was 'greased' when he was won to support the designs of an- 
other, by a feigned show of friendship and condescension ; and he was said to have 
been 'swallowed,' when he was made to vote in the interest of the combine or in- 
trigue. 'Soft soap,' was sometimes spoken of as the lubricator instead of grease. 
When one reflects that the great bulk of the legislators of that day were honest, sim- 
ple-minded, illiterate men of the backwoods, it will be seen that the opportunity of 
the politician was great. 

"The caliber of the pioneer legislators is shown by the following speech, uttered 
by a member who was later Lieutenant-Governor of the State and a candidate for 
Governor — Adolphus Frederick Hubbard. The bill before the House was one pro- 
viding for the payment of a bounty for wolf -scalps. 'Mr. speaker,' cried the 
honorable member, 'I rise before the question is put on this bill, to say a word for 
my constituents. Mr. speaker, I have never seen a wolf; I cannot say that I am 
very well acquainted with the nature and habits of wolves. Mr. speaker, I have said 
that I had never seen a wolf. But now I remember that once on a time, as Judge 
Brown and I were riding across the Bonpas prairie, we looked over the prairie about 
three miles, and Judge Brown said: 'Hubbard, look; there goes a wolf.' And I 
looked, and I looked, and I looked, and I said: 'Judge, where?' and he said: 
'There;' and I looked again, and this time, in the edge of a hazel-thicket, about 
three miles across the prairie, I think I saw a wolf's tail. Mr. speaker, if I did not 
see a wolf this time, I think I never saw one. But I have heard much, and read 
more about this animal ; I have studied his natural history. By-the-by, history is 
divided into two parts — there is, first, the history of the fabulous, and, secondl}^, the 
history of the non-fabulous, or unknown ages. Mr. speaker, from all these sources 
of information, I learn that the wolf is a very noxious animal; that he goes prowling 
about, seeking something to devour; that he rises up in the dead and secret hours of 
the night, when all nature reposes in silent oblivion, and then commits the most ter- 
rible devastations upon the rising generation of hogs and sheep. Mr. speaker, I 
have done ; and return my thanks to the House, for their kind attention to my re- 
marks.' " 



480 THE OHIO MAN IN EARLY POLITICS. 

From these small beginnings, the politician has risen to his present proud posi- 
tion as arbiter of the republic. On the stump, in the midst of an exciting political 
campaign, he was in his element. Out of it, he was probably a cross-roads lawyer, 
or country justice, or tavern keeper, or in some other employment that gave him 
wide acquaintance, and brought him much in the public eye. His power was due to 
the existence in every county of a race of the original pioneers, many of them illiter- 
ate and vicious. This class wore as its distinguishing badge the costume of the first 
settlers, and in addition a butcher-knife as side-arms — hence called "the butcher- 
knife boys." They formed but a small minority, yet by their clannishness held the 
balance of power, and were assiduously cultivated by the small politicians, who were 
able by their aid to ride into office. I do not know whether this clan existed in all 
the new States or not, but in Illinois for many years it was a distinct political power. 

Here is another characteristic story: He Avas an Ohio man, known as John Jones. 
He was a man of ability and cunning, who much wished to go to Congress, but was 
personally so unpopular that it seemed out of the question. After much study, he 
came to the conclusion that he might be elected as the friend and patron of Andrew 
Jackson, then at the zenith of his fame. He, therefore, formed a party stjded the 
"True and only sons of the hero of New Orleans," and called a meeting of his county 
of "all those friendly to the election of General Andrew Jackson." A great com- 
pany assembled, Jones was made Chairman, and, after a long eulogium of Andrew 
Jackson, submitted the resolution: 

"Resolved, that we are the friends of General Andrew Jackson, and w^ill sustain 
him in the coming election against all competitors." "Gentlemen," continued Mr. 
Jones, "the Chair is now about to put the question. The Chairman hopes that every 
man will declare his sentiments, either for or against the resolution. All those in 
favor will please say aye!" A thundering aye shook the walls of the building. 
"Now, gentlemen, for the opposition," said John Jones. "All those who are con- 
trary minded will please say no." Not a whisper was heard. The silence seemed to 
confuse Mr. Jones; he hesitated, fidgetted, and finally said: "Gentlemen, do vote; 
the Chair cannot decide a disputed question when nobody votes on the opposite side." 
At this a tall, lank, quizzical-looking genius rose, and said in dry, nasal tones, "I see 
the unpleasant dilemma the Chairman is in, and to aid in extricating him, will move 
to amend the original resolution bv adding, and John Jones for Cono-ress." 

"The amendment is in order; I accept the amendment," said the Chair hastily. 
"All those in favor of Jackson for President, and John Jones for Congress, will 



Lincoln* and Douglas. 48 1 

pleas say aye." "Aye, aye," said John Jones and his brother, in loud voices, 
which they had supposed would be drowned in the unanimous thunder of the affirma- 
tive. The Chair squirmed and hesitated. "Put the negative," thundered a hundred 
voices. "All those op-po-sed," said the Chair, "will please say no." "No-o-o," 
thundered every voice but two — Jones and his brother. Then followed a roar of 
laughter, as Carlyle says, "like the neighing of all tattersalls." "Gentlemen," 
said Mr. Jones, "the Chair perceives that there are persons here who do not belong 
to our party, whp have evidently come here to agitate and make mischief. I now, 
therefore, adjourn this meeting." 

Here are some other humors of the stump: 

The famous Tom Marshall, of Kentucky, was once making a spirited canvass in 
opposition to a man, who, to catch the votes of his kind, boasted that his father was 
a cooper, and was, at the same time, in the habit of drinking whiskey with all comers. 
Marshall, in answering him one day, said: "Fellow-citizens, his father may have 
been a very good cooper. I don't deny that; but I do say, gentlemen, he put a 
mighty poor head on that whiskey-barrel." 

In the great contest between Stephen A. Douglas and Mr. Lincoln, in 1858, the 
Judge made the opening speech of the canvass from the balcony of the Tremont 
House, in Chicago, to a vast crowd in the street, and Mr. Lincoln sat just behind 
the orator. In the course of his remarks, he said that the conduct of the Republi- 
can party in appealing from the decision of the Supreme Court of the United 
States, in the case of the fugitive slave, Dred Scott, to all republican gatherings at 
the cross-roads, reminded him of a remark once made by Mr. Butterfield, one of the 
wittiest lawyers of the Bar of Illinois. The Supreme Court of the State had sent 
down a decision in an important case against Mr. Butterfield and his client. The 
wit arose before the full bench of nine judges, and after a profound bow, observed 
that the law had been defined to be the perfection of human reason, and no doubt the 
Supreme Court of Illinois was the most competent and brilliant judiciary for the 
exposition and enforcement of the highest reason ; that he could conceive of but one 
improvement, which he hoped the Legislature would make at its next session, to-wit: 
That an appeal from the Supreme Court of Illinois might be made to any two justices 
of the peace. The crowd received the hit with a tumult of applause and laughter, 
and hi<2:h over all, rans; the buole-like laugh of Mr. Lincoln. When the noise sub- 
sided, he shouted, "Yes, judge, and that was when you were on the bench," The 
31 



482 EARLY iMl^llESSIONS biSMLLEfi. 

fun was then on the other side, and even Judge Douglas's nerve and self-possessiori 
gave way for a moment. 

Early in Judge Douglas's political career, he made a number of effective speeches 
to a great crowd of Irish navvies working on the Illinois River and Lake Michigan 
Canal. He was once interrupted by a huge fellow, the boss of a gang, who stood 
with his bare arms folded across his great chest, a dudeen in the corner of his mouth, 
while he looked with a mixture of pity and contempt upon the boyish and diminu- 
tive orator before him. "Is it descinded from the black Douglas ye are, the haro 
of Scotland?" quoth he. "Oh! yes, certainly," answered the Judge, "lam a direct 
descendant from him. ' ' ' 'A mighty thunderin' descint to the likes of you it is. Why, 
he could have put you in his breeches pocket." 

When Mr. 0. H. Browning and the Judge were stumping the "Military Tract," 
as it was called, as opponents for Congress, Browning got off this story at the Judge's 
expense: "Fellow-citizens, the argument of the learned gentleman reminds me of the 
plea put in by an Irishman who had been sued for the value of a tea-kettle. *In the 
first place,' said he, 'I never borrowed it at all. In the second place, it was broke 
when I got it; and in the third place, it was whole when I returned it."' 

I well remember the impression produced upon me — a boy of twenty-two years of 
age, educated in the woods and prairies of the west — when I attended for the first 
time the sessions of Congress, at Washington. I imagined that whatever eloquence 
I might have heard was deficient in the higher and sublimer qualities of oratory. I 
had heard and read much of the great men of our national Legislature, and fully ex- 
pected to be charmed beyond measure, in House and Senate, with new revelations of 
majesty and beauty; to be educated into a passion for eloquence; to sit long, happy 
days and nights in the halls of Congress, listening, a humble scholar, to those great 
men as they expounded or enforced the principles of the laws, and the statesmanship 
of the land. My disappointment was unutterable. I had expected a new kind of 
speech, something loftier and nobler than I had heard before ; but after hearing the 
most famous debaters, the world-renowned champions of that great arena, I went 
home night after night, saying to myself, "These men have taken lessons in eloquence 
from the preachers and exhorters of the backwoods." I have seen Adams and Web- 
ster thumping their desks as if their knuckles were of steel. 



CHAPTER XX. 
GREAT LEADERS. 

HENRY CLAY. ANDREW JACKSON. WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. JOSEPH HAMILTON DAVIESS. 

HUMPHREY MARSHALL. SAM. HOUSTON. THOMAS HART BENTON. LEWIS CASS 

THOMAS CORWIN. GEORGE D. PRENTICE. 

HENRY CLAY. 

'ROM the bosom of the people, as the harvest of the years grew riper, sprang 
great leaders, Anakim, towering head and shoulders above their fellows, en- 
dued with powers and faculties greatly needed and lavishly used in the shaping of 
the young nation's destinies. Clay, Jackson, Daviess, Marshall, Harrison, Benton, 
Cass, Houston, Corwin, Lincoln, Douglas, — if they had never lived, how much of the 
history of the United States, as we read it, would have remained unwritten. We have 
before spoken of the services of Clarke, Boone, Kenton, Sevier, Robertson, and 
other pioneer leaders. Of the later leaders. Clay rises before us first in order of 
time, in plenitude of gifts, and by space filled in the public eye. 

He embarked upon the career of a lawyer, his heart in his hand; his nature in full 
and free sympathy with that of the masses ; always true to freedom and justice, and 
no respecter of persons ; enforcing, as occasion served, that perilous duty of the eman- 
cipation of the negro race ; serving a writ for the keeper of a dram-shop, upon a dis- 
tiiiguished lawyer, for "drinks" unpaid for, and so securing the undying hostility of 
an influential man. At one bound he sprang into the foremost rank of the legal 
talent of the day. He was little learned in books ; he had not moved even in the 
graceful society of his own native Virginia; it must have been the movements of the 
trees bending in the wind that taught him his grace and dignity of attitude and ges- 
ture. He had spent little time over the great works of Greek and Roman orators; it 
was his own earnest convictions, his piercing intelligence, his true sympathies and 
keen perceptions and instincts, that revealed to him what were the thoughts re- 
quired, and the Avords in which they should be clothed. Thus profoundly true, and 
wondrously adapted to that community, he became a master of the intellect of the 

483 



484 FROM Law into politics. 

West. Stepping, by a transition so natural and common, from law into politics, Ke 
entered the United States Senate for a brief term at an early age, and later the House, 
and became the head of the party which advocated the last war with Great Britain ; 
and boldly and determinedly led the van in upholding the government, in the face of 




HKMiV CLAY. 



many bitter adversaries and with many faint friends, and against the whole embodied 
opposition of New England. Sent to Europe as commissioner to conclude the treaty 
of Ghent, together with Adams, Bayard, Gallatin, and Russell, he was a controlling 
spirit in the negotiations; and Lord Castlereagh, one of the most polished and fin- 
ished of the courtiers of Europe, from youth familiar with the most letined and aris- 



STOOD SIDE BY SIDE WITH WEBSTER. 



485 



tocratic society of the old world, pronounced this untutored child of the wilderness 
the most elegant and accomplished gentleman he had ever seen. Eeturning home, 
he passed from one post of honor to another, receiving almost every office in the gift 
of the people, except the highest; and linked his name, together with one or two 




LUCKETIA HART CLAY. 

others, to every great event and epoch in our history from that date to the day of his 
death. 1820, 1832, 1850, found Clay and Webster standing side by side; foremost 
in withstanding every storm. Against each onset they stood, like colossal forms, 
breasting the furious tempest, sometimes so buffeted that they seemed to be totter- 
incr and falling, to be ground to atoms below. They not only withstood but gov- 



486 HIS POWER OVER MEN. 

erned the Avild elements that assaulted them; they "rode the whirlwind and directed 
the storm." 

I can give no better illustration of Mr. Clay's ascendency in social life than the 
following incident, which took place during the session of Congress in the winter of 
1840-41. The Whigs had elected General Harrison by an overwhelming vote, 
and toward the end of the session, which was to be closed by his inauguration, a 
meeting of the leaders of the party was held, to form a programme for the new ad- 
ministration, and especially to determine whether an extra session of Congress should 
be called. The caucus was held at a famous restaurant, and was composed of 
twenty-three gentlemen. Whig chieftains, from every section of the Republic. Mr. 
Clay was resolved to have the extra session; Col. Wm. C. Preston, of South Caro- 
lina, felt that to call it would be hazardous in the extreme, and might be ruinous to 
the party, which in truth it was. Knowing Mr. Clay's immense power over men. 
Colonel Preston had visited every gentleman invited to the meeting, exchanged views 
with them, and found that his opinion in regard to the bad policy of the proposed 
measure was confirmed by every one of them except the great Kentuckian. Still 
dreading Mr. Clay's authority, he pledged them to a manly support of these views 
in the forthcoming council. When supper was announced, Mr. Clay led the way 
and took the head of the table, presiding with his accustomed grace and dignity, 
charming every one at table by his fine spirits and admirable talk. After the serv- 
ants had retired and the doors were locked, he called the meeting to order, an- 
nounced the purpose for which they were assembled, and in his masterly Avay un- 
folded his views upon the necessity of a called session. He then asked the opinions 
of the various gentlemen at the table, called them, one after another, by name, not 
in the order of their seats, but of their attachment to himself and their known sub- 
mission to his leadership, so that Mr. Preston came last; this gentleman had entered 
the room the file-leader of twenty-two men bound to uphold his views, and now 
found himself in a minority of one, for every man of them had deserted him. 

On another occasion, Mr. Clay felt called upon to define his position on the sub- 
ject of slavery, and having carefully prepared his argument, he read it to Colonel 
Preston, at the same time asking his opinion of it. "I quite agree with you in your 
views, Mr. Clay," replied the latter, "but I think it would be better for you to leave 
out such and such parts ; the expression of such opinion, I fear, will injure your 
prospects for the presidency in my part of the country." "Am I right, sir?" said 
Mr. Clay. "I think you are," replied the other. "Then, sir," with the generous 



"I WOULD RATHER BE RIGHT THAN PRESIDENT." 487 

pride and kindling ardor wliicli made him so grand a nature to all who ever knew 
him, "I shall say every word of it and compromise not one jot or tittle. I would 
rather be right than president." 

If any of my readers were ever fortunate enough to hear Mr. Clay tell the fol- 
lowing story, they can never forget the inimitable grace and humor with which it 
was done. ''While I was abroad, laboring to arrange the terms of the treaty of 
Ghent, there appeared a report of the negotiations in letters relative thereto ; and 
several quotations from my remarks, touching certain stipulations in the treaty, 
reached Kentucky, and were read by my constituents. Among them was an old 
fellow who went by the name of 'Old Sandusky.' He was reading one of these 
letters one evening, at a resort, to a collection of the neighbors. As he read on, he 
came across the sentence, 'This must be deemed a sine qua non.' 'What's a sine 
qua nonV said half a dozen by-standers. Old Sandusky was a little bothered at 
first, but his good sense and natural shrewdness were fully equal to a mastery of the 
Latin. ^Sine qua nonT said Old Sandusky, repeating the question very slowly ; 'why, 
sine qua non is three islands in Passamaquoddy Bay, and Harry Clay is the last man 
to give them up. No sine qua non, no treaty, he says; and he'll stick to it.' " You 
should have seen the laughing eye, the change in the speaker's voice and manner, to 
understand the electric effect the story had upon his hearers. 

I have heard, upon what seems to be good authority, that Mr. Clay used to tell 
with rare effect the following story on himself. About the time he left Europe, after 
the treaty of Ghent had been negotiated, Sir Walter Scott's poem, "The Lay of the 
Last Minstrel," was published, and a copy of it coming into Mr. Clay's hands, was 
the cherished companion of his voyage. The whole poem affected him profoundly, 
but especially the opening strain : 

"Breathes there a man with soul so dead, 

Who never to himself hath said 

This is my own, my native land! 

Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, 

As home his footsteps he hath turned 

From wandering on a foreign strand?" 
And he felt that if these lines could be delivered by him in one of his speeches, the 
most electrical effect of his oratory would be produced. He, therefore, spent hours 
pacino- the deck" of the ship, book in hand, trying to commit them to memory, but 
on reaching New York, he could not recall a single phrase. His first visit was to his 
native county of Hanover, Virginia, where he had not been since he quitted it, a pen- 




(488 



"The Mill-boy of the Slashes" as the great parliamentary leader. 



A MORTIFYING DEFEAT THE ORATORICAL TRIUMPH OF HIS LIFE. 489 

niless, friendless youth, and where lie had been known as the "Mill-boy of the 
Slashes," the stay of his mother, the widow of a poor Baptist parson. Returnino- 
crowned with the applause of two continents, and held to be the most eloquent man 
at least on his own, all sorts and conditions of men, white and colored, from the 
highest to the lowest, welcomed him with enthusiasm. A speech was demanded, and 
the hour for its delivery fixed. When the time arrived, a countless multitude 
gathered. Mr. Clay had spent all the leisure he could command pacing his room 
trying to get his quotation by rote, and thought he had succeeded. The rest of the 
speech was left to be the birth of the hour. As he stood on the platform, on which 
sat many of the most illustrious sons of the Old Dominion, before him and on either 
side was a sea of upturned faces, all eyes kindling as they looked upon his noble 
form, listened to his glowing sentences, and were thrilled by the music of his match- 
less voice. The time came for his quotation ; he paused, and a hush as of the grave 
fell upon the assembly. Striving to recall the first line, he looked first aloft, then 
around, and at last, with bowed head, buried his face in the handkerchief held in 
his right hand. The quotation would not come. Disconcerted, almost confounded, 
he raised his head, and to his amazement saw that every other head was bowed, and 
every man and women on the ground was bathed in tears, many of them sobbing 
aloud. They supposed his emotions had overwhelmed him, and hence his pause and 
bowed head. He was wont to declare that this mortifying defeat was the oratorical 
triumph of his life. 

Clay had not the culture, the profound legal lore, the thoroughly desciplined log- 
ical f acult}' of Webster ; nor his broad and dome-like brow ; nor the deep and cav- 
ernous eyes from which flashed forth such profound and mighty fires when he stood 
before Bench or Senate. Henry Clay, graceful, agile, dexterous, full of fire and pas- 
sion, yet with a will fixed as fate, a born commander of men, the joy and light of 
every social circle he entered; loved by women as no other man on this continent 
has ever been, and for whose- defeat, in 1844, I suppose more women's tears were 
shed than for any single event before, stands as the illustrious type and represent- 
ative of the eloquence of the western country. And take him for all in all, as man of 
the people, w^hatever his shortcomings or failings, it will be many a year before we 
look upon his like again. I cannot more fitly conclude this brief sketch than by 
quoting this passage from the speech in which he bade farewell to the Senate, in 
1842. "I emigrated from Virginia to the State of Kentucky, now nearly forty-five 
years ago. I went as an orphan who had not yet attained the age of majority; who 



490 



FAREWELL TO THE SENATE. 



had never recognized a father's smile, nor felt his warm caresses; penniless, without 
the favor of the great, with an imperfect and neglected education hardly suflicient for 
the ordinary business and common pursuits of life ; but scarce had I set my foot 
upon her generous soil, when I was embraced with parental fondness, caressed as 
though I had been a favorite child, and patronized with liberal and unbounded mu- 
nificence. From that period the highest honors of the State have been freely bestowed 
upon me; and when, in the darkest hour of calamity and detraction I seemed to be 
assailed by all the rest of the world, she interposed her broad and impenetrable 
shield, repelled the poisoned shafts that were aimed for my destruction, and vindi- 




ASHLAND— HENRY CLAY'S RESIDENCE. 



cated my good name from every malignant and unfounded aspersion. I return 
with indescribable pleasure to linger a while longer, and mingle with the warm- 
hearted and whole-souled people of that State, and when the last scene shall forever 
close upon me, I hope that my earthly remains will be laid under her green sod, with 
those of her gallant and patriotic sons." 

ANDREW JACKSON. 

Andrew Jackson was one of those ''whose cradle was rocked by the tempest of theEev- 
olution," and whose bier was borne to the grave by the young men of my generation. 

A republican and thoroughly independent spirit, a bold tenacity and pertinacity of 
purpose which nothing could daunt, were his by inheritance. The blood of the 



A SON OF THE REVOLUTION. 



491 



Scotch covenanter and the Irish protestant flowed in his veins ; his father, Andrew 
Jackson, having been one of a number of Scotch-Irish families who emigrated to the 
Carolinas, in 1765. Two years later, in a log-cabin of the Waxhaw settlement, in 
what is now Union county. North Carolina, March 15th, 1767 his son Andrew was 




ANDREW JACKSON. 



born. Andrew s mother was one of the martyrs of the Revolution. He himself re- 
ceived a scar from the sword of a British officer, which he carried to his grave. 
Every member of his family who came from Ireland perished in the storm. Natur- 
ally the lad who had suffered all this, had a vivid sense of the blessings of liberty 



492 



HIS CHARACTER. 



and the value of the Eepublic. Like Clay and most of the great leaders we are to 
consider, he was bred to the law, but soon exchanged the green bag for the sword 
and rifle of the soldier. He achieved a dual career as soldier and statesman, and was 
great in both. Whether as the youthful Attorney-General of a lawless region, as first 
Eepresentative of the new State of Tennessee in the National House, and later in the 
Senate; as Judge of the Supreme Court of Tennessee; as commander of the expedi- 
tion which crushed with one blow of the mailed hand both the hostility and nation- 
ality of the Creeks ; as the winner of the battle of New Orleans ; as President of the 
United States for eight years; as the Christian and sage of the Hermitage, gladly 

retiring to the delights 
and pursuits of private 
life ; by the force and 
weight of his charac- 
ter, the variety and 
value of his achieve- 
ments, his passionate 
love of country, his 
power over men and 
events, the breadth and 
depth of his influence, 
— he stands before the 
world one of the most 
noble and commanding 
figures of the heroic 
age of the Republic. 

The popular ideal of 
Jackson is not, per- 
haps, the correct one. The common belief is that he was stern, rough, irascible, 
as unyielding as the hickory of his native mountains; yet the man of iron 
had his gentler side. '•! arrived at his house," says Colonel Benton, "one 
wet, chilly evening in February, 1814, and came upon him in the twilight, 
sitting before the fire, a lamb and a child between his knees. He started a 
little, called a servant to remove the two innocents, and explained how it was. 
The child had cried because the lamb was out in the cold, and begged him to bring 
it in; which he had done, to please the little one, his adopted son, then not two 
years old." Jackson's tender love for his wife, and his fidelity to her memory after 




ANDREW JACKSON'S BIRTH-PLACE. 



HIS DEVOTION TO HIS WIFE. 493 

her death, form one of the brightest traits of his character. Many anecdotes are 
told illustrating this. The eloquent Bishop Payne, of the Southern Methodist church, 
when a young man, traveled the Nashville circuit, and was a frequent and honored 
guest at the Hermitage, where a room was set apart for his occupancy. One cold, 
autumn day, he entered the hall, threw down his saddle-bags, and went into the sit- 
ting-room. The General sat smoking furiously, and rocking violently to and fro in 
his splint-bottomed chair. Mrs. Jackson had thrown her pipe down and was cryino- 
pitifully. Payne, thinking he had chanced on a family quarrel, Avith the instincts of 
a gentleman, was about retiring, when the General said, "Come in, Mr. Payne; sit 
down. Rachel, tell Mr. Payne what you are crying about." As well as her sobs 
and tears would allow, Mrs. Jackson gasped out, "Oh, Mr. Payne, there has just 
been a committee of gentlemen to ask Mr. Jackson to stand for the presidency. I'm 
afraid he will consent, and I don't want him to do it, for I fear if he does, he will 
lose his soul, and that is of a good deal more consequence than being President. If 
he does get the presidency, I hope and believe the Lord will take me away before the 
time, for I don't want to go to the White House as the President's wife." Rachel 
Jackson's prescience was true. Within a week after Jackson was notified of his 
election to the presidency, death came and snatched his wife from his bosom. His 
devotion to her memory was supreme. For many years he carried her miniature 
over his heart. During the eight years he occupied the White House it was his 
habit, on retiring, to place his pistols on a night-stand by the bed, where also stood 
his candles, and where lay a little Bible, leather bound, with the blistering marks of 
tears from end to end. It was her Bible, which she had read over and over, and her 
tears had wet it through and through. He would read in no other. After his even- 
ing chapter from the sacred volume, he would take off her picture, looking at and 
kissing it. It was then laid against the Holy Book, flanked by the pistols. 

It was while he was at the head of the government, thundering against French 
reprisals or nullification folly, or w^aging war against the United States Bank, that 
he wrote this beautiful epitaph inscribed upon the tomb of his beloved, at the Her- 
mitage. 

"Here lie the remains of Mrs. Rachel Jackson, wife of President Jackson, who died 
on the 23d of December, 1828, aged sixty-one years. Her face was fair, her person 
pleasing, her temper amiable, and her heart kind. She delighted in relieving tiic 
wants of her fellow-creatures, and cultivated that divine pleasure by the most liberal 
and unpretending methods. To the poor, she was a benefactress; to the rich, she 



4:94: His tenderness toward children, 

was an example; to the wretched, a comforter; to the prosperous, an ornament. Her 
piety went hand in hand with her benevolence; and she thanked her Creator for be- 
ing permitted to do good. A being so gentle, and yet so virtuous, slander might 
wound, but could not dishonor. Even death, when it tore her from the arms of her 
husband, could but transplant her to the bosom of her God." 

The following shows the impression made by his manners: 

"An American lady — a daughter, I think, of Charles Carroll, of Carrollton — on 
returnino^ from Enofland, where she had associated on the most familiar footins; with 
the highest aristocracy, among the rest "The Iron Duke," being desirous of seeing 
General Jackson, an appointment was made for her. A few minutes before the hour, 
Mr. Buchanan, who had arranged the interview, going into the office, found him there 
immersed in work, and quite en deshabille — unshaved, and not at all neat in his dress and 
personal appearance. The courtier ventured to hint that the hour had come, and that it 
might be advisable to prepare for the visit. ' 'Mr. Buchanan, ' ' observed the General , ' 'I 
once heard of a man in Tennessee who got along very well, and .finally made a for- 
tune, by minding his OAvn business." Saying which, he arose and left the room. A 
few minutes later he walked into the parlor perfectly dressed, and as neat in appear- 
ance as though he had spent hours on his toilet. The lady departed, expressing the 
highest admiration of his manners and appearance. 

His tenderness toward children is shown by his adoption of a Creek babe as his 
own. After the battle of Talladega, Jackson, stumbling over the slain, came upon 
the body of a young Creek woman, with a tender babe of a few months, alive upon 
her breast. The little waif smiled in the stern warrior's face, and appealed so pow- 
erfully to his sympathy that he gave it in charge of a camp-follower, and later 
adopted it as his own son. 

The homage our hero received from all men was another proof of his greatness. 
At the inauguration of his successor — Martin Yan Buren — Jackson, we are told, was 
the observed of all observers. "For once," says Colonel Benton; who was present, 
"the rising was eclipsed by the setting sun. Though disrobed of power, and retir- 
ing to the shades of private life, it was evident that the ex-President was the absorb- 
ing object of intense regard. At the moment he began to descend the broad steps 
of the portico to take his seat in the open carriage which was to bear him away, the 
deep, repressed feeling of the masses broke forth; acclamations and cheers bursting 
from the heart, and filling the air, such as power never commanded, nor man in power 
received. It was the affection, gratitude, and admiration of the living age, saluting. 



COLONEL Benton's statement. 495 

for the last time, a great man. It was the acclaim of posterity, breaking from the 
bosom of contemporaries. It was the anticipation of futurity— unpm'chasable homage 
to the hero-patriot, who, all his life, and in all circumstances of his life — in peace 
and in war, and glorious in each — had been the friend of his country, and devoted to 
her, regardless of self." 

M. de Tocqueville, in his celebrated work on "Democracy in America," spoke 
slightingly, not to say contemptuously, of Andrew Jackson, characterizing him as "a 
man of violent temper and mediocre talents;" and stating that "he was twice elected 
to the presidency by the recollection of a victory which he gained under the walls of 
New Orleans; a victory which, however, was a very ordinary achievement, and 
which could only be remembered in a country where battles are rare." 

Let me give the following statement from Col. Benton, which should be read and 
known by every American : 

" 'A man of violent temper!' I can say that General Jackson had a good temper, 
kind and hospitable to everybody, and a feeling of protection in it for the whole hu- 
man race, and especially the weaker and humbler part of it. He had few quarrels 
on his own account, and probably those of which Mons. de Tocqueville had heard 
were accidental, against his will, and for the succor of friends. 'Mediocre talents, 
and no capacity to govern a free people!' Let the condition of the countrv Avhen 
he took up and when he laid down the administration, answer this charge. He found 
the country in domestic and financial distress ; a national bank to cure the paper, 
money evil, of which it was the author; the public lands the pillage of broken bank 
paper; a depreciated currency and ruined exchanges; a million and a half of un- 
available funds in the treasury ; a large public debt ; no gold in the countrv ; only 
twenty million dollars in silver, and that in banks which refused when they pleased 
Indian tribes occupying between a quarter and a half of the area of the Southern 
States ; and unsettled questions of wrong and insult with half the powers of Europe, 
and unsettled questions of wrong and insult with half the powers of Europe. 

"Such was the state of the country when General Jackson became President; what 
was it when he left the presidency? No more unavailable funds ; an abundant gold 
and silver currency; the public debt paid off; the treasury made independent of 
banks ; the Indian tribes removed from the States ; indemnities obtained from all 
foreign powers for all past aggressions, and no new ones committed; several treaties 
made with great powers that never would treat with us before ; peace, friendship, and 
commerce with all the world; and the measures established which, after one great 



i% 



coLONP^L Benton's statement. 



conflict with the expiring Bank of the United States, put an end to bank dominion, 
and all its train of contractions, expansions, panic, suspension, distress and empirical 
relief. 




WEATHERSFORP AN1> GENERAL JACKSON. 



*'As to the victory at New Orleans, it was no ordinary achievement. It was the vic- 
tory of 4, GOO citizens just called from their homes, without knowledire of scientific 



*'WHO WAS LIKE ANDREW JACKSON?" 497 

warfare, under a leader as little schooled as themselves in that particular, without 
other advantages than a slight field-work (a ditch and a bank of earth) hastily 
thrown up, over double their number of British veterans, survivors of the wars of the 
French Revolution, victors in the Peninsula and at Toulouse, under trained generals 
of the Wellington school, and with a disparity of loss never before witnessed. On 
one side 700 killed (including the first, second, and third geneials), 1,400 wounded, 
500 taken prisoners. On the other, six privates killed and seven wounded, and the 
total repulse of an invading army which instantly fled to its 'wooden walls,' and 
never again placed a hostile foot on American soil. And so the victory of New 
Orleans will remain in history as one of the great achievements of the world, in spite 
of the low opinion which M. de Tocqueville entertained of it." 

"Who was like Andrew Jackson?" asked Bancroft, in his beautiful eulogy. "He 
was still the lode-star of the American people. His fervid thought frankly uttered, 
still spread the flame of patriotism through the American heart ; his counsels were 
still listened to with reverence, and almost alone among statesmen, he, in his retire- 
ment, was in harmony with every onward movement of his time. His prevailing in- 
fluence assisted to sway a neighboring nation to desire to share our institutions; his 
ear heard the footsteps of the coming millions that were to gladden our western 
shores ; and his eye discerned in the dim distance the whitening sails that were to 
enliven the waters of the Pacific with the cheerful sounds of our successful com- 
merce." 

At last, on that peaceful Sabbath day of June, 1845, this master-spirit put off the 
robe of flesh, and was gathered home to the congregation of the faithful. It was a 
pathetic scene at the bedside of the dying man. His foster children — he had none 
of his own — with many young people from the neighborhood, were gathered there 
weeping. His servants clustered around, some on the outside clinging to the win- 
dows to obtain a last sight, and hear the last words of their dear friend. His part- 
ing words were to his daughter: "Weep not, my sufferings are less than those of 
Christ upon the cross;" and to his friends, "Dear children, servants, friends, I 
trust to meet you all in heaven, both white and black." Thus passed to the land of 
light and immortality, the spirit of Andrew Jackson. 

It will be interesting, in this connection, to compare the lives and characters of 
these two men — Clay and Jackson. The inimitable pen of my friend, Judge Baldwin, 
has done this so admirably, that I cannot do better than to quote his words: 
32 



498 



JACKSON AND CLAY COMPARED. 



"Both were the architects of their own fortunes. Both chose the profession of the 
law as their first introduction to the public. Both early impressed themselves upon 
the community, and were distinguished for the same characteristics. Both rose at 
once to places of honor and distinction, enrolled their names among the first and 

highest of the Republic. Both were men of 
quick perception, of j)rompt action, of acute 
penetration, of business capacity, of masculine 
common-sense, of quick and unerring judgment 
of men, of singular fertility of resource, of re- 
markable power to create or avail themselves 
of circumstances, of consummate tact and man- 
ao^ement. Both were distino-uished for ease and 
grace of manners, for happy and polished ad- 
dress, and for influence over the wills and af- 
fections of those who came within the circle 
of their acquaintance. Both were of lithe, sinev.y, 
and slender physical conformation, uniting strength 
and activity and great power of endurance, with 
happy faculty of labor. Both were men of 
warmest affections, of the gentlest and most 
conciliating manners in social intercourse when 
they wished to please ; of truth and loyalty and 
steadfastness in friendship; bitter and defiant 
in their enmities; of extraordinary directness 
of purpose; of a patient and indefatigable tem- 
per in following out their ends, or waiting for 
their accomplishment. Neither could brook a 
rival or opposition, and each had the 
imperial spirit of a conqueror not 
to be subdued, and the pride of lea- 
dership which could not follow. They 
were Americans in every fibre, intensely patriotic and national ; loving their whole 
country, its honor, its glory, its institutions, its union, with a love kindled early 
and quenched only in death.'* 





ANDREW JACKSON. 




(^499) 



500 



WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 



The Presidential Campaign of 1840, opened with the chances all in favor of the 
Whigs. The Harrisburg Convention met. The party had unequivocally declared in 
favor of Henry Clay for President, and it was generally supposed that the only duty 
of the Convention would be to announce the popular decision. But intrigue had been 
at work, and everybody was surprised to hear, at the close of its labors, that General 
William Henry Harrison, a comparatively unknown man, had been nominated, and 
the sage of Ashland again ignored. General Harrison was then sixty-seven years of 
age, having been born at Berkley, Charles City County, Virginia, in 1773. Unlike 
the great leaders whose careers we have been considering, he adopted the profession 

of arms rather than of the law, and it was be- 
cause of his services as a soldier in crushing the 
Northwestern Indians, and his excellent record as 
Governor of Indiana Territory, that his friends 
succeeded in placing him in nomination for the 
presidency. As I have not touched upon these 
campaigns in our narrative, it will be proper to 
consider them in this connection somewhat at 
length. He joined the army as ensign of the first 
regiment of United States infantry, in 1792, at Fort 
Washington, Ohio, now Cincinnati. It was a most 
unpropitious moment. There were not then above 
three or four thousand inhabitants in the whole 
Northwestern Territory, and these were scattered at 
immense distances from each other. The Indians, 
it was estimated, could bring fifteen thousand warriors into the field, and were bold, 
defiant, and aggressive. General St. Clair's army of three thousand men, raised by 
order of Congress, and which had marched against the Miami villages the fall be- 
fore, had been signally defeated, and had returned broken and disorganized to the 
fort. Another army was raised, and General Anthony Wayne, the "Mad Anthony" 
of the Revolution, was appointed by Congress commander-in-chief. This army, in 
June, 1793, young Harrison joined, having been promoted the 3^ear before to the 
rank of first lieutenant, and was made aide-de-camp to the commander-in-chief. The 
campaign of General Wayne, and the decisive battle and victory of the Maumee, Au- 
gust 20th, 1794, are matters of history, and need not be detailed here. The latter is 




WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 



EARLY PUBLIC LIFE COURTSHIP — MARRIAGE. 501 

worthy of mention, however, because there Lieutenant Harrison won his spurs. 
Wayne, in his official report, referred to his conduct in the most flatterino- terms. 

o 

An okl soldier, who was on the field, narrated this incident : 

"When the battle was raging hottest, many in my wing of the army were beo-in- 
ning to falter and think of retreat, when the brave Harrison, whom we all knew as 
the confidential aide of old 'Mad Anthony,' galloped up to the line, and called to the 
men with a voice that was heard above the roar of battle, 'Onward, my brave fellows ! 
The enemy are flying; one volley more, and the day is ours !' so stimulating them that 
the line stood firm, and the battle was won." 

As a result of this battle, a treaty of peace with all the Northwestern tribes was 
concluded at Greenville, on August 3d, 1795. At the close of the campaign, though 
but twenty-three years old, Harrison was entrusted Avith the important command of 
Fort Washington. While here he married the youngest daughter of Honorable John 
Cleve Symmes, one of the judges of the Northwest Territory ; a most estimable lady, 
possessed of both mental accomplishments and private virtues. 

Of his courtship a characteristic anecdote is told. He applied to Judge Sj^mmes 
for permission to address his daughter. "What are your resources for maintaining 
a wife?" asked the father. Placing his hand on his sword, he replied with as much 
confidence as though he were the owner of vast coffers, and piles of title deeds, 
"This is my means of support." Judge Symmes was so delighted with the coolness 
and self-reliance of the young soldier, that he yielded a cheerful assent to the 
proposal. 

Peace having been restored by 1798, the young soldier resigned his commission, 
and retired with his lovely wife to the estate at North Bend, which remained his 
home, when not in the public service, until the end of life. Almost immediately, 
however. President Adams appointed him Secretary of the NorthAvest Territory, and 
ex-officio Lieutenant-Governor, so that, in the absence of Governor St. Clair, the 
executive duties devolved upon him. Meantime the country was filling up, and by 
1799 contained sufficient population to entitle it to a territorial government and a 
delegate to Congress. A convention, composed of men elected for conspicuous 
merit, and not on party grounds, met at Cincinnati, September 16th, 1799, and so 
well had the young Secretary performed his executive duties, that by that assembly of 
gray-beards he was elected almost unanimously to represent the territory in Congress. 
He was then twenty-six years of age. 

One act William Henry Harrison performed while in Congress, which alone en- 
titled him to the gratitude of posterity — the act providing for the survey and sub- 



502 



GOVERNOR OF THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY. 



division of the public lands, and their sale in small lots, so that the settler might, by 
industry and economy, become a freeholder. Another act of great moment to the 
settlers was one extending the time of payment, in behalf of those persons who had 
procured pre-emption rights to land they had previously bought of Judge Symmes 
lying beyond his patent, and for which he could not give titles. During Harrison's 
term the Northwestern Territory was divided, Indiana Territory being carved out of 
it, and soon after Mr. Harrison was appointed by President Adams its first Governor 
and Superintendent of Indian Affairs. The new territory included what are now the 
States of Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin, and had a population of five 
thousand souls, scattered throughout the wilderness, and with but three white settle- 
ments of note — Vincennes, on the Wabash, the seat of government; Clark's grant, 




FORT WAYNE IN 1812. 

at the falls of the Ohio, nearly opposite Louisville, and the French settlement of 
Kaskaskia, near St. Louis. This was in 1800. Governor Harrison's position was 
one of great delicacy and responsibility. The country was filled with Indians, hostile, 
notwithstanding the peace, slaying and ravaging whenever opportunity offered, 
incited thereto by British emissaries as well as by their own evil passions. These 
outrages provoked reprisals, so that keeping the peace was a task of no small diffi- 
culty. That he might perform this, absolute and extraordinary powers were con- 
ferred upon him. Jointly with the judges he exercised legislative functions; he was 
given the appointment of all civil officers, and of all military officers below the rank 
of general, absolute pardoning power, and was sole Commissioner of Treaties Avith the 
Indians; he had also the power of confirming all grants of land, Practically, the 



TECUMSEH AND THE PROPHET. 503 

lives, liberty and property of the citizens were at his disposal. Dangerous powers, 
but necessary in the condition of the country. That Governor Harrison discharged 
these delicate duties ably, impartially, and satisfactorily to the people, was the chief 
reason for his elevation to the presidency. The other cause was his military services. 
For several years prior to 1811, a great league or confederation of all the North- 
western tribes against the whites had been forming. Jealousy of white encroach- 
ments was the principal cause. This league was conceived and carried out by two 
Shawnee brothers, born at a birth of a Creek woman, on the banks of Mad River, not far 
from the present city of Springfield, Ohio. Tecumseh and Elkswatawa they were called — 
in English, the "Wild-cat-springing-on-his-prey" and "The loud voice." Tecum- 
seh Avas a noble and lofty spirit, with a commander's powers and a statesman's genius. 
Elkswatawa was a cunning, unprincipled, hypocritical character, who made the super- 
stitions of his nation the lever and fulcrum for raising himself to j)ower. He had 
a trance, in which he professed to have visited the purlieus of the Spirit Land, and to 
have received a message for the red race. From this he was considered a divine 
messenger, a prophet, and went about preaching to the Indians, condemning their 
vices, and warning them to have nothing to do with the pale-faces — their religion, 
customs, arms, or arts — all of which were displeasing to the Great Spirit. Tecumseh 
cunningly made use of his brother's divine power, to extend and strengthen his sway 
over the tribes, and by 1811 had so consolidated his league that he thought himself 
strono; enougrh to strike. Meantime General Harrison had not been idle. Rumors 
of a great Indian confederation, inspired by Tecumseh and the Prophet, were borne 
to him at Vincennes, and he kept a watchful eye upon both brothers. As early as 
the Spring of 1810, the Indians at the Prophet's town — placed where the Tippecanoe 
enters the Wabash — showed evidences of hostile intentions. Harrison sent his 
trusted agent, Joseph Barron, to reason with them, but the Prophet received him in 
an unfriendly manner. "For what purpose do you come here?" he said angrily. 
"Brouillette was here — he came as a spy. Dubois was here — he was a spy. Now you 
have come; you too are a spy." Then pointing to the ground, he said vehemently, 
"There is your grave, look on it." But at this moment Tecumseh appeared, and as- 
sured the envoy of his personal safety, and promised to visit Governor Harrison at 
Vincennes. On the 12th of August, 1810, he fulfilled his promise by suddenly ap- 
pearing before the town with four hundred warriors in war-paint, to the no small 
alarm of the people. His bearing was haughty and insolent. Governor Harrison 
sent a messenger, inviting him to his house to hold a council. "Houses are for you to 



504 



THE CALL FOR VOLUNTEERS. 



hold councils in," he replied, "Indians hold theirs in the open air." He then took 
his position beneath some trees, and unabashed by the crowd of people about him, 
opened the council with a speech of great dignity and power. At its conclusion an 
aide said, pointing to a chair: "Your father requests you to take a seat at his 
side." Drawing his mantle around him, and rising to his full height, "My father?" 
he said scornfully, "the sun is my father, and the earth is my mother, on her bosom 
I will repose," and seated himself with dignity upon the ground. Some hostile 
demonstrations were made by the Indians, but the council broke up in an apparently 
friendly spirit. 

In the Spring of 1811, roving bands of Indians plundered and burned all along 

the upper waters of the Wabash. Tecumseh, 
warned, declared that his intentions were ami- 
cable, and went south to induce the Creeks, Choc- 
taws andCherokees to join his alliance. Harrison, 
meanwhile, was increasing his military strength, 
and making other preparations to meet the 
storm. Toward autumn it became evident that 
Prophet's Town was the rendezvous of an Indian 
force that undisturbed would imperil the terri- 
tory, and it was determined to disperse it — to 
strike before they should be struck. Volunteers 
were called for, and such was Harrison's wide- 
spread pojDularity that old Indian fighters from 
Kentucky and Ohio, including General "Wells, 
Colonel Owen, Jo Hamilton Daviess, and many 
others, crossed the river, and enlisted with men of the territory under his banner. 
On September 26th, 1811, Harrison was able to march from Vincennes wdth about 
nine hundred effective men. With this army he moved up the Wabash, and en- 
trenched himself behind a stockaded fort near the present city of Terre Haute, which 
was named Fort Harrison. On the evening of the 5th of November, the little army 
encamped Avithin eleven miles of Prophet's Town. Now, for the first time since leav- 
ing Vincennes, Indians became visible, hovering on both flanks and in advance, care- 
fully watching ever}'^ movement and reporting it to the Prophet. Arriving on the 
Gth, within a mile and a half of the Indian stronghold, the alarmed Prophet sent a 
messenger to ask a parley. It was granted. He then proposed an armistice, until 




TECUMSEH. 



PREPARED FOR A NIGHT ATTACK. 505 

the leaders could meet in council next day, solemnly promising to take no advantage 
of its conditions. To this Harrison agreed, and camped his army that night on a 
triangular oak ridge, about a mile back from the Wabash and the town, which had 
been pointed out by the Prophet. Harrison was, however, too old and wary an In- 
dian fighter to trust so treacherous a foe. He read the Prophet's countenance as if 
it had been an open book, and foreseeing treachery and a night attack, ordered the 
men to sleep upon their arms; the bivouac was so arranged that each man , springing 
from sleep, would fall into his proper place in the ranks. The site of the camp was 
described by Harrison as a "piece of dry oak land rising about ten feet above the 
level of a marshy prairie in front, toward the Prophet's Town, and nearly tAvice that 
height above a similar prairie in the rear, through which and near to this bank, ran a 
small stream (Burnet's Creek), clothed with willows and other brushwood. Toward 
the left flank this bench of land widened considerably, but became gradually nar- 
rower in the opposite direction, and at the distance of one hundred and fifty yards 
from the right flank, terminated in an abrupt point." This ridge was the battle- 
ground of November 7th. One may visit it to-day easily by taking a train of the 
Louisville, New Albany and Chicago Railway, and alighting at the little battle-ground 
station, about seven miles from the city of Lafayette, Indiana. Harrison's camp was 
in the form of a parallelogram, with the "point" held by a battalion of United States 
infantry, under Major Boyd, flanked on the left by one company, and on the right by 
two companies of Indiana Militia, under Colonel Bartholomew. In the rear of this was 
another battalion of Regulars. These were supported on the right by four com- 
panies of Indiana Militia, under Lieutenant-Colonel Decker. The right flank, eighty 
yards wide, was flUed with mounted riflemen, under Captain Spencer; the left, one 
hundred and fifty yards long, by mounted riflemen, under Major-General Wells. The 
troops of dragoons, under Colonel Joseph H. Daviess, were stationed in the rear of the 
front line, near the left flank ; and at a right angle with the companies was another 
troop of cavalry, under Captain Parker, as a reserve. Wagons, baggage, officers' 
tents, etc., were in the center. In this order, with a strong cordon of guards and 
sentinels, the army went to sleep. But the Prophet did not sleep. Calling his follow- 
ers around him as night fell, he brought out a pretended magic bowl and string of 
holy beans, and holding the latter in one hand and a flaming medicine torch in the 
other, he commanded his followers to touch the talismanic beans, be rendered invul- 
nerable, and also to take an oath to exterminate the white man. His incantations 
over, he turned to his warriors, who, to the number of seven hundred, were grouped 



506 



THE BATTLE BEGUN. 



about him, and said, holding up the holy beans, "The time to attack the white man 
has come. They are in your power. They sleep now, and will never wake. The 
Great Spirit will give day to us, and night to the white man. Their bullets shall not 
harm us; your weapons shall always kill." War songs and dances followed, until 
the Indians were brought to the proper pitch of frenzy and excitement, when the 
Prophet gave the word, and they rushed forth into the darkness to attack their sleep- 
ing foes, their plan being to creep up stealthily, kill the sentinels, and, rushing in, 
massacre the entire army. They reckoned without their host, however. Harrison 
was awake — it was about four o'clock in the morning — and was just pulling on his 




TIPFKCANOE BATTLE-GROUND. 



boots, when the crack of a rifle at the northwest angle of the camp fell on his ear, 
followed instantaneously by a chorus of savage yells. "It was Stephen Mars," said 
an eye-witness, "who fired that first alarm gun. Poor fellow, he discharged his gun, 
and rushed towards the camp, but was shot dead before he reached it." "To arms," 
now resounded through the quarters, and b}^ the light of the smouldering watch-fires 
the officers hastily formed their men for battle. Some, however, fought unformed 
in their tent doors — for many of the frenzied savages forced their way into the camp — 
and eno;ao;ed in a hand-to-hand struo-jjle, but were slain to a man. Harrison mounted 
his horse and galloped in all directions — for the lines were assailed at all points — mak- 
ing such dispositions for defense as the darkness would admit of. In front, rear, and 



THE INDIANS ROUTED. 



507 



on both flanks the battle raged, and for a time the issue was doubtful, but the raw 
levies stood firm, and as morning broke the savages were forced to retire, unable to 
break through or stampede the solid phalanx. Many brave men fell in the brief con- 
flict, however, men that could illy be spared — the gallant Daviess, Spencer, and his 
lieutenant on the left flank, Warrick, and the veteran Indian fighter, Owen, who bore 
honorable scars received in Indian battles twenty years before. Dawn revealed the 
enemy in greatest force upon the two flanks. Harrison was about to order the cav- 
alry to charge them when the infantry, under General Wells, performed that duty, and 
drove the savages in hopeless rout 
into the marshes, from which 
they fled in all directions. This 
ended the battle of Tippecanoe, 
which became so famous in our 
after political history. Next day 
Harrison marched on Prophet's 
Town, and laid it in ashes. It 
was a decisive victory ; it broke 
the spirit of the Northwestern In- 
dians, and made the victorious 
commander the most popular man 
in the West. Events thickened. 
War against England was de- 
chired. Hostilities opened dis- 
astrously for the Americans in 
the West. Detroit and Fort 
Dearborn (Chicago) Avere both 
taken by the British. Harrison 
was soon sent into the field. Governor Scott, of Kentucky, appointed him 
Major-General of Kentucky militia, President Madison, three days earlier, hav- 
ing appointed him Brigadier-General in the army of the United States. A little 
later, he was given entire command of the Northwestern army, consisting of 
some ten thousand men. We have not space to follow him in detail through 
that eventful campaign. His first care was to relieve Fort Wayne, which was 
threatened b}^ the Indians, and to overawe the enemy in that quarter. Then he 
began to make dispositions for the recapture of Detroit. He gained some victories, 




MAGUAGA BATTLE-GROUND. 



508 ANOTHER GREAT VICTORY DEATH OF TECUMSEH. 

and through his subordinates met with some defeats. Commodore Perry's splendid 
victory on Lake Erie, September 10th, 1813, opened up a highway to Detroit, and on 
the 18th of that month, he triumphantly entered the City of the Straits with his 
army, General Proctor, the British commander, retreating before him. Harrison 
immediately followed, and coming up with him three days later on the banks of the 
Thames, overwhelmingly defeated him in a pitched battle, taking six hundred pris- 
oners, and retaking some of the brass cannon captured from Hull at Detroit, at the 
beginning of the war. In this battle, Tecumseh, the great leader of the Indian al- 
lies of the British, was killed. This decisive victory practically ended the war in that 
quarter. The Indians, demoralized by the death of their leader, sued for peace; and 
as there was no British force whatever in that region, all of Upper Canada came un- 
der control of the American arms. Reputations were lost and won in this war of 
1812, but it is safe to say that the two men who came out of it Avith the brightest 
laurels were General William Henry Harrison and Commodore Oliver Perry. Gen- 
eral Harrison was complimented by Congress, and by various public bodies, and 
Langdon Cheves declared on the floor of the House, that in the palmy days of Rome 
his victory would have earned him a triumph. President Madison, in his next an- 
nual message, also stated that the victory was due to the military talents of General 
Harrison. And yet he was, in a few months — January, 1814 — relieved of his com- 
mand by the administration he had served so well, and retired to his old post of the 
Eighth Military District, with headquarters at Cincinnati — an affront that General 
Harrison resented by resigning his connnission. 

Thus it happened that when the Whig Convention of 1840 was in search of the 
most available candidate for the presidency, it fixed on William Henry Harrison. 
He had during the interval been much in public life. In 1816, he had been elected a 
member of Congress, but after filling the unexpired term of John McLean, to which 
he had been elected, and a full term to which he was returned, he declined a re- 
election, preferring private life. In 1824, he was elected to the United States Senate 
by the Legislature of Ohio, but remained in the Senate only three years, having been 
appointed, in 1828, Minister Plenipotentiary to the Republic of Columbia; twenty- 
eight days after his arrival at his new post, however. General Jackson was inaugu- 
rated President, and four days later General Harrison was recalled. He did not again 
enter public life until called to the highest oflice in the gift of the people. The cam- 
paign preceding his election was the most unique and hotly contested the Republic 
ever witnessed. No important principle was involved ; the wonderful uprising of the 



THE "log-cabin campaign." 509 

people was simply a partisan revival, a political revolution, incited by the financial 
policy of President Jackson, and by a feeling in the West that its favorite son had 
been dealt with most unjustly by the politicians and patronage dispensers. Harrison 
ran on the prestige gained at Tippecanoe, the party slogan being, "Tippecanoe, and 
Tyler too." He was the "Log-Cabin Candidate," and "Conqueror of Tecumseh." 
Log-cabins in miniature were carried in the political processions, and "log-cabin rais- 
ings" were a feature of the campaign. A huge log-cabin, mounted on a six horse 
wagon, was driven through Ohio by Tom Corwin and his friends, and served as a plat- 
form wherever the orator spoke. By these means twenty of the twenty-six States, 
and two hundred and thirty-four electoral votes, out of two hundred and ninety-four, 
were secured for Mr. Harrison, his competitor, Mr. Van Buren, receiving but sixt3^ 
President Harrison was inaugurated March 4th, 1841. In just one month from that 
day he lay cold in death in the White House. 

His term of office was too short to allow of any forecast as to what would have 
been accomplished for the country and for posterity. His death was received with 
the most heartfelt sorrow throughout the country, and was followed by a day of 
fasting and of prayer as at some national calamity. A public funeral Avas given him 
in Washington, largely attended, and his remains were deposited in the congressional 
vault, preparatory to their removal to North Bend, which took place the next Summer. 

"A man of infinite kindness of heart," says Benton, who knew him well, "Affec- 
tionate to the human race — of undoubted patriotism, irreproachable integrity both in 
public and private life, and of a hospitality of disposition which received with equal 
welcome in his house the humble and the most exalted in the land." 

JOSEPH HAMILTON DAVIESS. 

A western traveler, about 1806, visited the Green River counties, and on arriving 
at a country town, found the court just assembling, and a great concourse of people 
from all the region round, gathered in expectation of a trial which had excited great 
interest in the neighborhood. He entered the court-house — an extempore affair; 
for all the appurtenances of justice, like the speeches of that day and place, were 
improvised. The abode of justice was a log-cabin. On one side sat the judge; and 
the sheriff shouting out "Oyez, oj'ez," proclaimed the opening of the court. Bus- 
iness was begun, and the docket regularly called; and in process of time this case, so 
eao-erlv looked forward to, was put in course of trial ; the witnesses were called and 
examined, and the pleadings began. The case was a civil suit for damages for 
slander, brought by a poor orphan girl, whose fair name — her only possession — had 



510 



A COURT-HOUSE SCENE IN THE BACKWOODS. 



been defamed by the defendant, a wealthy man in that region. She had no kinsman 
who could revenge this great wrong by personal prowess, by the strong hand, as the 
custom of the country would generally have required ; and the spirited young girl 
found herself perforce left to the slow process of the law. The counsel for the 
plaintiff, as he appeared to my authority, was tall, straight, and rather slender, of 
swarthy features. Long, black locks fell over his face, an eagle eye looked keenly 
from beneath his forehead, and his costume — as unforensic a dress as could be con- 
ceived — was that of a hunter in the woods ; buck-skin hunting-shirt with fringed 
border, leggins and moccasins. He rose and began his speech. As he jjroceeded, 
the wild backwoodsmen, who had gathered from their sports and antics about the 
court-house green, crowded around, and were now breathless, their attention riveted 




HOME OF JOSEPH HAMILTON DAVIESS 



by the eloquence of the speaker. Every niche of the little building was crowded, 
and every window and doorway filled with absorbed listeners. As with imperative 
and heart-touching power the speaker described the helpless loneliness of the 
orphaned maiden, his client ; her sad isolation within the broad and busy world ; judge, 
clerk, jury and audience, were subdued with irrepressible emotion. And again, as 
he assailed the man who attempted to defile her reputation, it seemed as if a tornado 
of fire were drying up all the streams. As the hot and scorching wind of his 
sarcasm and invective swept through the audience, their eyes flashed and their 
bosoms heaved; he carried their very souls captive, and every man of them made the 
orphan's cause his own. So utterly did the assembly pass beneath the influence and 
into the spirit of that indignant and terrible denunciation, that had the slanderer 



EARLY" LIFE — TEMPERAMENT — CHARACTER. 511 

been on the spot, it is doubtfiJ whether he would have left the place alive. And 
when the words of this backwoods counsel were ended, the jury, without retiring 
from their seats, brought in a verdict for heavy damages. 

Some years thereafter, and just subsequent to the war of 1812, this same writer 
had occasion to be in the State of Indiana, and was near Tippecanoe, Harrison's 
battle-ground. Early in the morning he rose, and rode out to see the scene of the 
fight; and first he repaired to a spot where, underneath a broad and noble tree, was 
a little mound of earth, without paling or defense, and with no stone to mark the 
head of him who rested there ; for he had come to visit the grave of the eloquent 
advocate whom he had heard in Southern Kentucky. Here lay the successful 
lawyer, the all-powerful orator, the brave soldier, the noble and upright man, the 
husband of the sister of Chief Justice Marshall ; the man who had held Aaron Burr 
at bay, and who opposed the plots with which that arch-seducer was beguiling honest 
citizens to treason and death ; the equal antagonist of Henry Clay, and who, if 
instead of falling at the battle of Tippecanoe, had lived as long as Clay, would have 
won as high, if not a higher place, than did even that great orator of the West. 
Such was he who is yet familiarly spoken of and cherished in memory throughout 
the West as Jo Hamilton Daviess, one of the noblest, largest-minded, most loftily 
and daringly ambitious, and yet one of the most simple-hearted and truthful, of all 
the eminent men of the West. 

When six months old, he was carried in the arms of his mother through the long 
and terrible journey on "The Old Wilderness Road," from Fauquier county, Vir- 
ginia, to Kentucky, where his childish years were passed in a block-house, and his 
boyhood amid the hardships and perils of the border. He was, nevertheless, an 
eager student of such books as fell in his way, and in time, with the help of a little 
academic instruction, became a good classical and mathematical scholar; then studied 
law, and by virtue of his industry, talents and eloquence, reached a foremost place at 
the bar. Following the bent of his own temperament and character, and doubtless 
swayed somewhat by the opinions and influence of his father-in-law, Mr. Thomas 
Marshall, and of his brother-in-law, the illustrious chief-justice, John Marshall, he 
was an enthusiastic Federalist. The principles of that party were then so odious in 
Kentucky, that the men holding them had the door of a political career slammed in 
their faces. 

Daviess, therefore, applied himself with keener zest to the study and practice of 
the law. He was, I believe, the first western lawyer who ever argued a case before 
the Supreme Court of the United States. 



512 STEWED TERRAPIN VS. BUFFALO. 

His first appearance there forms one of the traditions of that august tribunal. 
His case was called, and also the name of Jo Hamilton Daviess, of Kentucky, as 
counsel. At the summons, a tall, commanding figure rose from among the spectators, 
and advanced to the bar. His appearance produced a sensation, both among lawyers 
and visitors. His coon-skin cap was laid upon a chair. His hunting costume — buck- 
skin shirt and leggins — was soiled, and frayed from contact with the forest. But 
when, drawing a bundle of papers from the bosom of his shirt, he ventured upon an 
exposition of the case, bench and bar found that no uncouth backwoodsman was 
there, bat a scholar and an orator, as well equipped with knowledge of the law as 
with the grace and power of eloquence. Daviess won his case, and returned in 
triumph to his clients. 

On his way home, he stopped to pay some visits in Virginia, where he was hand- 
somely entertained, and his company greatly enjoyed by many leading public men 
and lawyers. The eminent Governor Lyttleton Waller Tazewell gave a large dinner 
party in his honor at the Governor's fine old colonial home, at Norfolk. As the 
courses proceeded, the host asked of his honored guest if he would be helped to 
stewed terrapin. "Stewed terrapin," exclaimed the backwoodsman, "what's that? 
I never heard of it." "Never heard of stewed terrapin?" cried out a gentlemen at the 
table, with more astonishment than politeness, "Where were you bred, sir?" "In 
Kentucky, sir," thundered Daviess. "Did you ever see a buffalo?" There was a 
pause, and then the conversation flowed in another channel. 

He was but thirty-seven, when, in 1811, he volunteered in General Harrison's army, 
then engaged in the memorable campaign against Tecumseh. At a critical period in 
the battle of Tippecanoe, seeing that an exposed angle of the line would give way 
unless re-inforced, he led his column of cavalry into the breach, and was killed in the 
assault. His untimely death elicited an universal expression of regret, couched in 
prose and verse, elegy and eulogiura — ample testimony of the impression his tal- 
ents and elevation of character had made on the minds of his contemporaries. 

HUMPHREY MARSHALL. 

For much of the material for this sketch I am indebted to A. C. Quissenbury, 
Esq., of the War Department, through whose kindness I have been allowed to use 
his carefully prepared study of Mr. Marshall. 

Humphrey Marshall, the son of John Marshall and his wife, Jane Quissenbury, first 
saw the light in that breeding-ground of illustrious men and women, Westmoreland 
county, in the northern neck of Virginia, birth-place of the Washingtons, Lees, 



ONE WHO ^'HAG TO GRUB FOR IT/^ 51^ 

Madisons, Monroes, Popes, and of his own proud race, which has given to the country 
John Marshall, the great Chief Justice ; General Robert Anderson, of Fort Sumter 
fame, and not a few other celebrated persons, women as well as men. Humphrey's 
father, John, was the third son of his father, John, and he, the second son of his 
father, Thomas, and as in those good old days, the law of primogeniture was strictly 




HUMPH UliY MARSHALL. 



enforced in Virginia as in England, his branch of the family "had to grub for it," 
as the saying went; but as Thomas Marshall, — Humphrey's uncle, — the oldest son 
of that generation, bought an estate in Fauquier county, his brother John became 
his neighbor, and their households seem to have been almost as one, notwithstand- 
33 



514 LESSONS IN READING, WRITING, AND LOVE. 

ing the difference of their fortunes. Humphrey was borne in 1760, and as he grew 
up in a new country where there were no schools, and as his father was too poor to 
send him to William and Mary, at Williamsburg, or elsewhere, he must have gone 
without schooling but for the kindness of his cousin Mary, daughter of his uncle 
Thomas, sister of the future Chief Justice, and in after-time his own wife, who, it is 
said, taught him to read and write, and breathed into him a love for learning as well 
as for herself. Through her gracious ministry his intellectual powers were aroused, 
and although he never attained what would now be called scholarship, his reach of 
mind and force of character, united to courage which bordered on hardihood, enabled 
him to play a conspicuous, and, for a time, an influential part in the affairs of this 
country, with both tongue and pen. At the age of eighteen he enlisted in the Eev- 
olutionary army, saw three years of hard service, chiefly under the command of his 
uncle Thomas; was retired honorably with the rank of "Captain-Lieutenant;" went 
to Kentucky, then (1781) a district of Virginia, whither his father's family had 
already removed, and after spying out the land, returned to Richmond, obtained a 
patent to four thousand acres of land, to which his services in the army entitled him; 
went back to the "dark and bloody ground" to "locate his claim," and enter upon 
that multifarious career dashed with romance, which for many years made him a 
notable figure in the countries both east and west of the mountains. At first he 
worked under his uncle Thomas, who had been appointed ofiicial surveyor of Fayette, 
one of the three counties into which the district of Kentucky had been divided, 
and whose headquarters were at a block-house in Lexington. This was in 1782-3, and 
so vigorously did the youth push his fortunes, that in time it became his boast that 
he could ride from Frankfort to Versailles, a distance of twenty miles, through his 
own lands the whole way, and that he had not time to count his silver coins, but used 
a peck measure to learn his store. The old registers, both in Richmond and Frank- 
fort, show his entries of lands to have been countless, ranging from tracts of four 
hundred acres to forty thousand, recalling Abraham Lincoln's mot to another en- 
terprising official surveyor, "I understand you are monarch of all you survey." 

To his business as a surveyor he soon added that of a lawyer, and about the same 
time married his cousin Mary, for whom throughout his life he cherished an affection 
both reverent and chivalrous. His next step was into the political arena, where, as 
long as he remained in it, his attitude was that of a gladiator. Loyal to Virginia, 
then to the Federal Union as soon as it was formed, outspoken, aggressive, fearless, 
he threw down his first gage of battle to his adversaries by naming his eldest son 



A GENIUS FOR MAKING ENEMIES. 515 

John Jay, at that time more odious in Kentucky than the name of any other Amer- 
ican, because it was believed that Mr. Jay was trying to sell to the Spanish govern- 
ment what the people of the West held to be their dearest right, the navigation of 
the Mississippi, in barter for paltry commercial advantages to the States on the At- 
lantic Coast. The three questions which then formed the political issues of Ken- 
tucky were separation from Virginia, Statehood and admission into the Union, and 
the free use of the "father of waters" for trade with New Orleans and the world 
beyond. There was a private political club, composed of some of the leading cit- 
izens, which held monthly meetings at a tavern in Danville, and where, over huge 
bowls of apple-toddy, the members discussed and sought to shape the politics of the 
time. Into this club Humphrey Marshall sought entrance, but was black-balled by 
eight votes to five, and thenceforth he was as "a sword in the bones" of the men 
who voted to keep him out, and many years of his life, with all his powers of tongue 
and pen, were devoted to the exposure of what he claimed to be their treasonable 
schemes and machinations. He had a genius for making enemies as well as friends, 
and gave it full play. There seems to have been — he certainly believed there was — 
an influential party in favor of the instant separation from Virginia, whether the 
mother States were willing or not ; and the erection of Kentucky into an independent 
and sovereign commonwealth, which could negotiate with Spain for its own interest, 
regardless of the States east of the mountains, form an alliance with his Catholic 
Majesty, secure his protection and all the favor she offered ; or enter the Union when 
the people chose to do so. To these schemes, and the men by whom they were 
urged, Humphrey Marshall was unalterably and bitterly opposed. He was a Fed- 
eralist to the very core throughout life, and while his enemies sought to overwhelm 
him with torrents of abuse and malodorous epithets, he withstood Avith a firm and 
dauntless front, sometimes almost alone, breasting the storm, and giving his enemies 
as good as they sent — recalling Fitz James's defiance, "Come one, come all, this rock 
shall fly from its firm base as soon as I." 

To illustrate the hatred which the masses of the people had in those years towards 
the Federal party, take this story of a Avestern law-suit. The plaintiff sued the 
defendant for heavy damages, because he had called him an old Federalist. A Ken- 
tucky witness deposed that it was the same as calling a man a Tory, an enemy of his 
country, or a horse-thief ; and that he would shoot on sight any man who applied 
either epithet to himself. The jury agreed with this— and many other witnesses 
whose testimony was to the same effect — and gave the plaintiff one thousand dollars 



5 If) ''BRETHREN, LET US PROCEED IN AN ORDERLY MANNER 



if 



damages for the outrage committed by the defendant in calling him an old Federal- 
ist. Yet this was the party to which Washington, Hamilton, Jay, John Adams, the 
great Chief Justice and the other Marshalls belonged, and which was joined by 
Patrick Henry in the latter years of his life. 

Humphrey Marshall was among the fourteen delegates sent by Kentucky, in 1788, 
to the Virginia Convention, met to ratify or reject the new Constitution of the 
United States, and to decide whether the Old Dominion should or should not be a 
member of the Union ; and of that number he was one of the minority of three 
that voted to adopt the Constitution, and make Virginia the tenth State to enter the 
new Government. This vote multiplied and embittered his political enemies. Nev- 
ertheless, in 1795, he was sent by the Legislature of Kentucky to the Senate of the 
United States, for the full term of six years, where one of his first acts was to vote 
for the ratification of Mr. Jay's treaty with Great Britain. For this, upon return- 
ing to his home in Frankfort, he was seized by a mob, dragged to the bank of the 
Kentucky River, in which he was to be ducked, if not drowned. With his usual 
presence of mind in the face of danger, he shouted in stentorian tones, "Brethren, 
let us proceed in an orderly way. It is the custom of the good old Baptist church, 
before a candidate is immersed, to listen to his experience, and I claim the right to 
tell mine before you go further in this business." It struck the humor of the mob, 
and they gave him leave to mount a stump, from which he gained their attention by 
his wit and fun, and then proceeded to lash the instigators and ringleaders of the 
mob with his scorpion whip until they sneaked away, and at the end of his telling 
speech he was allowed to go quietly home. Again and again he was attacked with 
bludgeons and pistols, challenged to mortal combat on the "field of honor;" assailed 
in newspaper articles and pamphlets, denounced by great public meetings, was stoned, 
charged by eminent judges, and by a majority of the Legislature of the State, with 
being a perjurer, involved in suits for libel against some of the most distinguished men 
in the State, more hated, dreaded, hounded, than any other man in this country has 
been. He says that he was in danger of losing his fortune by the adverse decision 
of the highest court in the State, because of the fierce feud between the judges and 
himself; but at the critical moment the old judges were removed, new ones ap- 
pointed, the case re-heard, and his property was saved by a unanimous decision in his 
favor. He called the masses of the people "the nether end of society," often in- 
veighed against and ridiculed them for their want of political knowledge and sagacity, 
never paid court to them in public or private, and his unpopularity was increased by 



ENCOUNTER AND DUEL WITH HENRY CLAY. 



517 



his scoffs and flouts hurled at religion. He signed his own political death warrant by 
supporting all the measures of John Adams's administration, and, although a turn in 
the tide now and then brought him in as a member of the Legislature, he was often a 
minority of one in that body. In the session of 1808-9, Henry Clay, who was the 
most popular member of the body, brought in a resolution that no member of the 
Legislature should wear clothes made of European cloths until France and Eno-land 
duly recognized American rights, thus supporting Mr. Jefferson's plan of embargo. 
Mr. Clay, when he made the motion, was dressed in a suit of broadcloth, while Mar- 
shall, whose seat was but one removed from his, then and almost always was dressed 




OFFICE OF THE "KENTUCKY GAZETTE," 1787 — THE FIRST PRINTING-HOUSE IN KENTUCKY. 

in home-spun. He at once obtained a suit of the finest British manufacture, and in 
this poured out his stinging invectives and ridicule upon the resolution and its mover, 
characterizing Mr. Clay as a demagogue. Both men were on their feet and coming 
to blows on the floor, when General Biffe, a herculean German, who sat between 
them, seized Marshall with the right hand, and Clay with the left, and as he held 
them in his iron grip, shouted, "Poys, no fighting here, or I'll vip yon poth." Of 
course, this did not end the matter ; Mr. Clay sent the challenge, Marshall accepted it, 
and the meeting took place on the Indiana side of the Ohio Eiver, nearly opposite 
Louisville. Three shots were exchanged; both men were slightlj^ Avounded; Mr. Clay 
insisted upon a fourth fire, but the seconds refused to allow it. The men hated each 



518 HIS CAUSTIC AND TRENCHANT STYLE OF WRITING. 

other with a mortal antipathy. Mr. Clay had been forward in defending prominent 
men in Kentucky, who, as Marshall believed, were traitors, and pensioners of Spain; 
and when Aaron Burr was arrested by the action of Marshall's brother-in-law, Col. 
Joe Hamilton Daviess, as District Attorney for the United States, and brought to 
trial at Frankfort, Mr. Clay appeared as Burr's counsel, and secured his release. 
Marshall, Daviess, and a few other Federalists believed Burr's scheme to be treason- 
able, and that Clay knew it, or ought to have known it. They also believed that 
Judge Innes, who sat on the bench and released Burr, had been involved in schemes 
equally treasonable. After the duel, a brief truce was patched up between Clay and 
Marshall, but was soon broken, and the old warfare was renewed, but no blood was 
spilt. 

From 1788 (when the first printing-press in the West was set up at Lexington, 
Kentucky, and the issues of the "Kentucky Gazette," the first newspaper, began), 
to 1824, when Marshall suffered a serious stroke of paralysis, benumbing his right 
side, to which the aggravation of palsy was added, his pen was never idle. Over 
pseudonyms which everybody understood, as well as over his own name, he explained 
and vindicated his course in public affairs, challenged a free inquiry into his conduct 
and motives, sought to lay bare to the public eye the plots and conspiracies against 
the Federal Union, in which he believed not a few of the leading men of Kentucky 
to be engaged, and in his defiance of them, using all the weapons of invective, scorn 
or ridicule. Until the appearance of George D. Prentice, in 1830, as editor of the 
"Louisville Journal," Humphrey Marshall had no peer as a writer in the West. 
Here are two short samples of his style. In the first edition of his history of Ken- 
tucky, there was this trenchant sentence on Dr. Benjamin Franklin. "Already had 
the flattery of the minister, and the thousand seductive blandishments of Paris, gained 
over to his purpose that singular composition of formal gaiety, of sprightly gravity, 
of grave wit, of borrowed learning, of vicious morality, of patriotic treachery, of 
political folly, of casuistical sagacity and republican voluptuousness." I think this 
passage was omitted from the second edition of his book, published in 1824. 

This is in a different strain, and is a part of what he wrote for his wife's epitaph: 
"To domestic circles she looked for temporal enjoyments; to a Saviour and heaven, 
for eternal happiness. Her person perfect, her features comely, her mind of the 
highest order of human virtue, a high sense of her duties in life, and great fidelity in 
discharging them, were the characteristic traits of her to whose memory this column 
is erected by her husband." 



HIS HISTORY OF KENTUCKY. 



519 



His history of Kentucky, now very rare, was first published in 1812. A second edi- 
tion, 'much enlarged and modified in 1824, is highly interesting, not only as the first 
considerable literary work produced in the West, but as an illustration of the spirit 
of the time and country. Every chapter bears witness to his peculiar temperament 
and temper, to the fierce political and personal contests in which the pubhc men were 




FRANKFORT, KENTUCKY. 

embroiled. How fierce those contests were, may be learned from this instance, one 
out of a thousand. While "Old Humphrey," as he was called, was surveyor of 
Woodford county, the Legislature of Virginia passed an act favorably affecting his 
tenure of office. A number of men, influential, holding high positions, swore that 
he was in Kichmond all the time the act was under consideration, working with might 



520 THE LAST SEVENTEEN YEARS OF HIS LIFE. 

and main for its passage. An equal number of persons, as high in station and worthy 
of credit, among them his cousin, the Chief Justice, testified that to their knowledge 
he was not and could not have been in Richmond until after the act was passed, and 
that he knew nothing of it until he received the intelligence from his cousin John. 
When the passions of men were roused to such a pitch, and the truth so hard to be 
got at, it is not strange that Mr. Marshall's book should have been branded with all 
sorts of epithets, "libelous," "slanderous," "scurrilous," "malignant," "false," 
and the like. That he was a bitter partisan, cannot be doubted; so were all the other 
politicians of the West. He and a handful of friends had to stand the assaults of 
overwhelming odds, and as his convictions were firm, and his temper hot, it is not to 
be wondered at that he often wrote with a mixture of vivacity and gall. There was 
far more than personal feeling in his rage and bitterness, for he believed that many 
of the men with whom he fought had plotted to separate the West from the East ; 
to make Kentucky, if not a province of Spain, at least tributary to it, and that not a 
few of them were for years in the pay of his Catholic Majesty. In justice to 
Humphrey Marshall, it must be added that not a few of his most pointed and forc- 
ible charges against his adversaries have been proven true by researches in the Span- 
ish Archives, as may be seen in Mr. Gayarre's History of the Spanish Domination in 
Louisiana. 

The last seventeen years of his life were comparatively peaceful ; only once within 
that time did he put on the war-paint and rush into the fray. This was to \vrite a 
most caustic review (by which one is reminded of the old days of the tomahawk and 
scalping-knife style of warfare), of George D. Prentice's eulogistic life of Henry Clay, 
published in 1832. As in that year he applied for and received a pension as a soldier 
in the Army of the Revolution, continuing to draw it until his death, I suppose he 
must have lost much or all of his fortune. He quitted his home in Frankfort to live 
with one of his sons in Lexington, where the younger generation looked with a mix- 
ture of curiosity and awe upon the stately old man, as, supported by a long staff, he 
moved slowly and with halting gait through the streets of the capital of the Blue- 
grass district, which he had known so well more than half a century before when the 
forest and the cane had not been cleared, and the citizens were obliged to seek refuge 
in the block-house from the forays of the savages. He was six feet two inches in 
height, with a well-moulded form, commanding presence, and bore himself with an air 
of lofty superiority towards the masses of the people. He died in 1841, having 
passed the age of four score, and was buried in Frankfort, where no stone marks his 



SCOTCH-IRISH BLOOD AND A FEW BOOKS HIS CAPITAL. 521 

last resting-place, and it is said that the ground about his grave has been so trodden 
by the hoofs of cattle and the feet of men, that "no man can tell where he lieth." 

SAM. HOUSTON. 

Houston founded an empire, and is, therefore, not to be reckoned least among the 
great leaders of the West. Considering his services and romantic career, it is won- 
derful that he is so little known to the great mass of his countrymen. He was a 
native of Virginia — born March 2d, 1793, near Lexington, in Rockbridge county — 
but, like Clay, Jackson, Benton, and other choice spirits, emigrated at an early age 
to the new country west of the Alleghanies. Like them, he came of the hardy, vig- 
orous, Scotch-Irish stock; like them, he was reared by a strong and wise mother, 
whose intellectual and moral qualities raised her far above the average of her sex. 
She was left a widow with six sons and three daughters to support, and that she 
might the better perform this duty, removed to a choice nook on the banks of the 
Tennessee, in the midst of the Cherokee Indians, on the limits of civilization. One 
advantage of early education Houston enjoyed, not shared by any of his contempo- 
raries, he spent weeks and months among the Cherokees as a boy, chasing the red 
deer with his Indian mates, fishing, swimming, following the trail, engaging in all 
their manly sports with an eagerness equal to their own, and gaining that intimate 
knowledge of the Indian character which enabled him in after-years to control abso- 
lutely the Indian population of his great republic. Like other noteworthy men of 
the time, he saw service in the Creek war, being badly wounded in the bloody battle 
of the Horseshoe which sealed the fate of the Creek nation. After the war, for 
good conduct therein, he was appointed Lieutenant of the First Regiment of Infan- 
try, then stationed at New Orleans. One bright morning, w^ith two companions, he 
embarked in a skiff on the Cumberland for his post. They threaded the Cumber- 
land, swept down the Ohio and came out upon the broad bosom of the Mississippi, 
then sweeping between solemn forests with scarcely a vestige of civilized life. Our 
traveler carried several books to beguile the tedium of the voyage — a Bible, the gift 
of his mother, Shakespeare, Pope's translation of the Iliad, Pilgrim's Progress, 
Robinson Crusoe, the Vicar of Wakefield — his sole capital on beginning life, and, 
perhaps, the very best possible. A little above Natchez, rounding a bend, they saw 
far down the river what they at first thought was a flat-boat on fire, but which 
proved to be the Orleans, the first steamboat that navigated the Mississippi River. 

He spent the year 1815-16 at New Orleans, at New York and in Tennessee, striv- 
ino; to reijain his health, which was shattered by the terrible wounds received at the 



522 



LIKE OTHER GREAT LEADERS, A LAWYER AND SOLDIER. 



Horseshoe; but in November, 1817, was sent as Sub-Indian-Agent to carry out 
the treaty just made with the Cherokees. This mission he performed with honor 
and fidelity, but, being disgusted with certain strictures upon his official conduct in 
preventing the smuggling of African negroes into the Western States from Florida, 
then a Spanish province, he resigned from the army, and took up the study of tlie 
law. It is a striking fact that so many of these great leaders Avere lawyers and sol- 




SAM. HOUSTON.— FROM A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN IN 1860. 

diers. After six months' study, he was admitted to the bar with e'clat, and soon 
after was made Adjutant-General of Tennessee, and in October of the same year, 
was made Attorney of the Davidson District. We must sketch briefly his early civil 
advancement, for the interest and lesson of his career lie near its close. He was 
elected to Congress in 1823, and his course there gained him the confidence and 
respect of his constituents. Four years later — 1827 — he was elected Governor of 



FROM THE GUBERNATORIAL CHAIR TO THE INDIAN'S WIGWAM. 



523 



Tennessee, by a majority of over twenty-one thousand. He married, in 1829, an 
estimable yomig lady. They parted in less than three months ; the principals would 
never say why — it was their own private matter, they said, with which the public 
had no concern — but certain busy-bodies interested themselves, and filled the State 
with such a flood of calumny and misrepresentation, that Houston, out of conceit 
with humanity, resigned his office of Governor, and betook himself to the wilder- 
ness. His destination was the wigwam of his foster-father, the chief of the Chero- 
kees, who, in his youth, had 
adopted him, and given him a 
corner in his wigwam, and 
with his tribe had now re- 
moved to the region west of 
Arkansas, in the neighbor- 
hood of Fort Smith. Few 
careers can show such transi- 
tions as Houston's — from the 
gubernatorial chair of a great 
State to the lod2:e of a half- 
naked savage, and not of ne- 
cessity, but by his own choice. 
Yet, doubtless. Providence 
was leading him. His life 
amonsr the Cherokees was sig- 
nalized by attacks upon those 
cormorantSjthe Indian Agents, 
and by attempts to keep ardent 
spirits from the territory, at- 
tempts which arrayed two 
powerful interests against him 

in Congress and the public press, and brought on him a fierce storm of obloquy and 
reproach. He visited Washington early in 1832, in behalf of his Indian wards. 
Walking down Pennsylvania avenue at night, unarmed, he was assaulted by a mem- 
ber of Congress who had distinguished himself by his savage attacks in the war then 
being waged against President Jackson. The member snapped his pistol at Houston, 
who, thereupon, broke his cane upon the member's head. For this he was arrested 




SAM. HOUSTON— FROM A PAINTING. 



524 A GRAND CONFLICT FOR HUMAN RIGHTS AT HAND. 

by the Sergeant-at-Arms of the House, hauled before its bar, charged with a viola- 
tion of the rights of a member in holding him responsible for words uttered in de- 
bate. For a month, nearly, the House sat as a judicial body, seeking to condemn 
the man who had exposed corruptionists, and was the friend of Andrew Jackson, the 
two main counts in the indictment, had it been honestly drawn. There was then a 
strong anti-Jackson majority in the House. Houston spoke in his own defense, win- 
ning many friends by his fine personal appearance — he was above six feet, and well 
proportioned — his consummate ability and eloquence. The august trial ended in a 
party vote instructing the Speaker to reprimand the accused ; but in the eyes of the 
people — who, in the main, love fair play, and have an abiding respect for justice — 
Houston went out a victor. Jackson would have bestowed upon him almost any of- 
fice within his gift. The people of Tennessee, where reason and justice had regained 
sway, would have re-elected him Governor. But he had seen enough of civilization, 
and withdrew to his wigwam, on the margin of a beautiful prairie near the junction 
of the Grand Eiver with the Arkansas. 

His ambition now was to become a great herdsman, and with this end in view, he 
went into Texas — then under the government of Mexico — as far as San Antonio de 
Bexar. The vast agricultural capacity of that great country caught his eye at once. 
It had been settled largely by emigrants from New York, the South and West, some 
of them picked men of their various localities, others vain and blatant demagogues 
and adventurers, such as always infest a new country. The settlers had already be- 
gun to talk of making Texas — which, under the Mexican Federal Constitution of 
1824, formed, with the Province of Coahuila, one State — a State by itself, though 
aware that a bloody war would probably be the result. They were at this moment 
about calling a convention to consider the matter, and besought Houston to stand as 
a delegate. Houston felt that a grand conflict for human rights, was at hand, and 
consented. He was elected, and took his seat, with some fifty other members, in that 
immortal body which met at San Filipe de Austin, on April 17th, 1833, where the 
first step toward Texan independence was taken. In thirteen days they had com- 
pleted one of the best models extant for a State Constitution, and had drawn up and 
signed a memorial to the supreme government of Mexico, praying that Texas might 
become one of the States of the Republic. Three commissioners were appointed to 
convey memorial and constitution to Santa Anna, then President of the Mexican Con- 
federated States, but only one went — Stephen F. Austin, later Governor, and after 
whom the present capital of Texas was named. He met with little encouragement, 



**AT LENGTH CAME THE LAST STRAW."" 525 

for the ambitious Santa Anna had resolved on establishing a military despotism, with 
himself as dictator. Austin, on his return, was pursued by the troops of Santa Anna, 
forced back to the capital, and thrust into a noisome dungeon, where he lay for many 
months. This despotic act, when news of it reached the Texans, greatly enraged 
them, but Houston's influence restrained their wrath. He, although as anxious as 
any for separation from Mexico, saw that the time for it had not yet come — for there 
were not in the State at this time above twenty thousand Americans, all told. Austin 
was at length released, and returned home, where he found the popular mind in a 
ferment. Texas was ruled by Mexican laws, executed by Mexican officers. It was 
felt that they were under the displeasure of the central government, administered by 
Santa Anna. Their commerce was placed under restrictions ; taxation became op- 
pressive ; they could not secure justice in the courts ; exhorbitant fees were demanded 
for issuing land titles. 

At length came the last straw— an edict from Santa Anna, requiring the surrender 
of all private arms. That meant no defense against Indians as well as Mexicans, 
no shooting of wild game, on which many depended for subsistence. The edict was 
resisted. Soon came collision and bloodshed. At the little town of Gonzales, cap- 
ital of DeWitt's Colony, on the eastern branch of the Guadalupe, some seventy miles 
east of Bexar, the settlers had a four-pounder planted as a defense against Indians. 
A Mexican Colonel and his troop marched thither to capture it ; had a brisk fight for 
it, and were driven back with bloodshed— a slight skirmish, but it marked the open- 
ing of the Texan war of independence, for the sword drawn on that day was never 
sheathed until that end was accomplished. A general alarm was now sent out. 
Eastern Texas, heretofore quiet, rose as one man. Men hurried in by twos and 
threes and dozens, from North and East and South. Austin was made General of 
the forces in Western Texas, and Houston of Eastern Texas. A second Convention 
was called to meet at Washington, but after meeting, adjourned to San Filipe. 
Meantime, Austin invested San Antonio de Bexar with eight hundred men. These 
events occurred in October, 1835. The same month the Convention met at San 
Filipe. Houston was a member, and on taking his seat, received an express from 
Austin, asking him to send on his division, and inviting the Convention to come on and 
help him take Bexar, asserting that it could easily be done. The Convention decided 
to fight first, deliberate afterwards, and adjourned to the seat of war. Houston gave 
the last five dollars he had to a messenger with dispatches to his division— called the 
Kedlanders-ordering them to rendezvous at the Salado, within three miles of Bexar, 



526 A COUNCIL OF WAR. 

and with the delegates pushed on to Austin's camp. There, a council of war was 
held, and it was thought best that the Convention shoukl re-organize, form a pro 



DISCUSSING THE PLAN OF THE SAN ANTONIO CAMPAIGN. 

visional government, devise ways and means for maintaining an army, and issue a 
declaration that shoukl put Texas right before the world. The question was referred 



COMMANDER-m-CHIEF OF THE ARJVIIES OF TEXAS. 527 

to a vote of the army, and was by them decided in the affirmative. Back, therefore, 
to San Filipe the delegates went, re-organized, and issued a declaration exhorting all 
Mexicans to unite in maintaining the Constitution of 1824, and pledging their lives, 
property, and sacred honor in its support. They also made a law for the provisional 
government of the province. Many were for issuing a Declaration of Independence, 
but the influence of Houston — who was a prominent member of the Committee which 
drafted the declaration — defeated so ill-timed a measure. He is said to have at- 
tended this Convention in the picturesque dress of the Cherokees — buck-skin breeches, 
and a Mexican blanket — which being reported to General Jackson, drew forth the re- 
ply, "I thank God there is one man at least in Texas made by the Almighty and not 
by tailors." In those stirring days men looked at the man, not at his dress. A 
Governor and a Lieutenant-Governor were elected, a Council created; lastly, the 
Convention proceeded to elect the man in the blanket and buck-skin breeches Com- 
mander-in-cJiief of the armies of Texas — by this act, as events proved, showing their 
wisdom. 

Houston now proceeded to organize an army. Three Commissioners had already 
been sent to Washington to secure a loan for the new government, and advance its 
interests, but he placed little confidence in their efforts. Meantime, several small 
battles with the "Greasers" (as the Mexicans were called) had taken place, all at- 
tended with signal success to the Texan arms. After Austin's advance on Bexar, 
certain citizens of Matagorda and Victoria formed a company, and under Captain 
Collinsworth captured and held Goliad. A little later, while the army menaced 
Bexar, Colonels Fannin and Bowie, with one hundred men, attacked five hundred 
Mexicans at the Mission of the Conception, and forced them to retreat. The most 
gallant affair, however, was the capture of Bexar itself, with the strong fortress of 
the Alamo, which defended it. Colonel Benjamin K. Milam, a brave officer, without 
a regular command, issued a call for volunteers to storm the Alamo and take the 
town. Two hundred Texans responded, and entering at night, got possession of cer- 
tain buildings of strategic importance, and then made their way by the use of crow- 
bars through the walls from house to house. They were in the town for several 
days, performing many acts of individual heroism, Milam hmiself at last falling, 
pierced by a rifle ball. At length they got possession of the town, and the Alamo 
surrendered. A spectacle not very creditable to Mexican bravery was presented on 
the morning of the capitulation, when eleven hundred Mexicans marched out, and de- 
livered arms to less than two hundred Texans. These men were released on parole. 



528 SIEGE OF THE ALAMO, 

and under the Mexican General Cos, marched to Mexico. The latter, however, 
basely broke faith, and was found in arms against the Texans at the bloody battle of 
San Jacinto. Scarcely was Houston appointed General of the army, ere he was called 
upon to meet insubordination and intrigue on the part of ambitious subordinates, and 
this continued to the end. 

On the 2d of March, 1836, a third Convention met at Washington, and declared 
Texas a free and independent State. This was done at the instance of General 
Houston, and largely through his influence, for in his judgment the time was now 
fully ripe. The convention then proceeded to frame a Constitution, but was inter- 
rupted by an incident as dramatic as ever occurred in the history of any people. 
Colonel Travis had been left in command of the fortress of the Alamo, against the 
orders of Houston, who, foreseeing, from its isolated position — seventy miles distant 
from the nearest Texan outpost — that if invested by Santa Anna, it could not be held, 
gave orders that it should be blown up, and that its garrison should rejoin the main 
body. Colonel Travis, however, had been ordered by the provisional government to 
hold the fort, and was promised re-inforcements, which were never sent. On a Sun- 
day morning — March 6th — news spread like wild-fire through Washington that Travis 
and his one hundred and eighty-five Texans were closely besieged in the Alamo by 
five thousand Mexicans, and had asked for succor. The members, with a crowd of 
excited spectators, rushed to the hall of the Convention, and took their seats without 
summons or signal. The President arose, and said that he had received a document — 
"the most important ever received by any assembly of men," and then read Colonel 
Travis's thrilling and patriotic, but despairing letter. At once the body was in a 
ferment. "To the Alamo, to the Alamo," was the cry that arose. Robert Potter ex- 
pressed the almost universal sentiment, by moving the resolution that the "conven- 
tion do immediately adjourn, arm, and march to the relief of the Alamo." The 
motion would have been carried, with results as disastrous as those that attended the 
quest of the Holy Grail, had not Houston sprang to his feet, and by his eloquence 
and convincing logic, arrested the impulse of passion. "This is madness," said he, 
"worse than treason to the Texan people. We have declared our independence, but 
are without organization to enforce it. We must have a government in organic form, 
or we shall be nothing but outlaws, and can hope for neither the sympathy nor re- 
spect of mankind. Stay you here, and supply this want ; sit calmly ; firmly and coolly 
pursue your deliberations; be wise and patriotic, and leave the Alamo to your Gen- 
eral and the army." He at once quitted the hall, and in an hour, with three or four 




iALL OF THE ALAMO. 



530 



'*THE ALAMO HAS FALLEN." 



companions, was on his way to the Alamo. They rode hard all day, tilllate at night, 
then rested a few hours ; at daybreak Houston withdrew a short distance from camp, 
and placed his ear to the ground, as if awaiting the signal. Travis had said in his 
letters that as long as the Alamo held out, he would announce the fact at daybreak 
by a signal gun. In a condition of mind which may be imagined, Houston now 
awaited this signal. Every day, for days, that gun had been heard booming across 
the hundred miles of prairie between the Alamo and the point where they now were. 
It had been heard the preceding morning. But to-day he waited in vain; tlie signal 
never came. He walked back to his comrades. ''Friends," said he, "we will go on 
to Gonzales. The Alamo has fallen." It was too true. On the 6th of March — the 
day he left Washington — the Alamo had been carried, and every human being in it, 
except a woman, her child, and a negro, slaughtered. Not satisfied with this, the 

savage foe had piled the bodies of 
the butchered men, women, and 
children, in a gory hecatomb with 
combustibles, and burned all to 
ashes. Had Santa Anna desired 
Texan independence, it was the 
most effective act he could have 
done. It fired the popular heart, 
silencing cabals and intrigues ; bet- 
ter still, it caused a great revulsion 
of feeling in the United States. 
A number of the defenders of the 
Alamo — the famous Davy Crockett 
among them — were generous, high-souled spirits from the Western and South- 
western States, who had volunteered to aid a brave and oppressed people struggling 
for their rights and liberties, and their inhuman taking off in this manner helped 
no little to create that feelino; in the United States which led soon to the annexation 
of Texas, and consequent war with Mexico. 

One more sacrifice had to be made before the victory at San Jacinto turned the tide 
of war. Fannin, the hero of Bexar and the Alamo, had intrenched himself with 
some five hundred men at Goliad. Houston ordered him to blow up the fort, sink 
his cannon in the river, and while there was yet time, join him with his force upon the 
Guadalupe. But Fannin refused, coolly saying that he would defend the fort at all 
hazards, and take the responsibility of his disobedience of orders. In a few days he 




REMNANT OF THE OLD FORT OF THE ALAMO. 



MASSACRE AT GOLTAT). 



531 



was surrounded by the Mexican army, and his force massacred to a man. Still not 
disheartened, Houston continued his retreat before Santa Anna's victorious army, 
sustaining the courage of his men by impassioned appeals to their manhood and 




r>AVIU CROCKETT. 



patriotism. At length, the time came for him to turn. Reaching Buffalo Bayou, 
near New Washington, he learned that Santa Anna was marching for Lynch's Ferry, 
over the San Jacinto, at its junction with the Buffalo, intending to cross the former 




MONUMENT ERECTED 

— TO — 

THE HEROES OF THE ALAMO, 



AND NOW STANDING AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE STATE HOUSE AT AUSTIN, TEXAS. 



Inscription f)N the Shaft— Nokth Front. — To thn God of the fearless and free is dedi. 
cated this altar made from ihe ruins of the Alamo. Marcli 6th, 1836, A. D. 

iNSCRiPTroN on the West Front. - Blood of Heroes hath stained me; let the stones of 
the Alamo speak that their immolation be not forgotten. March Gth, 1836, A. D. 

Inscription on the South Front.— Be they enrolled with Leonidas in the host of (he 
mighty dead. March 6th, 1836, A. D. 

Inscription on the East Front.— Thermopylae had her messenger of defeat, but the 
Alamo had none. March 6th, 1836, A. D. 



(^32) 



THE DAY BEFORE THE GREAT BATTLE. 



533 



stream, and carry desolation to- the Sabine. Houston at once decided to make the 
point at the junction his battle-field, and to win Texas, or die in the attempt. 
His men— but seven hundred strong— with only two six-pounders, were burning to 
meet the invaders, who numbered fifteen hundred men, well armed and equipped, 
and Avho were constantly receiving re-inforcements. Houston arrived at the dis- 
puted point first, and chose his position— a small copse of trees on the mar<nn of 
the prairie — and planted his cannon on the brow of the copse, with his flanks 
protected by the river. Santa Anna came up on the morning of the 21st, and 
intrenched about three-quarters of a mile from the Texan position. Houston did not 
at once attack. He had decided 
not to fight that day. The en- 
emy was ready and confident. 
By next day suspense and un- 
certainty would have rendered 
him less eager. Houston de- 
voted the day, like Cortez, to 
burning his ships behind him. 
A new ferrj^-boat, built by Santa 
Anna's orders, had already been 
secured. He called two trust} 
rangers, put axes in their hands, 
and said, "Eide to Vinci's bridge, 
cut it down and burn it up, 
and come back like eagles, or 
you will be late for the day," — 
this bridge being on the only 
road communicating with the Brazos, and which afforded the only means of retreat. 
"We could win a victory to-day," he said to a confidential friend, "but it would be 
attended by heavy loss — while to-morrow I will conquer, slaughter, or put to flight 
the entire Mexican army, and it shall not cost me a dozen of my brave men." 

That night Houston slept calmly on the ground, his head pillowed on a coil of 
rope used in dragging the cannon. No sound of reveille woke the camp, but as the 
first gray streaks shot up in the east, three quick taps of the drum awoke the 
soldiers. Amid the hum of preparation, the weary commander slept on, but as 
the sun came up over the prairie, its rays shining in his face awoke him, and 




MEXICANS AT A PERIOD OF PEACE. 



534 



"REMEMBER THE ALAMO. 



springing to his feet, he exclaimed, "The sun of Austerlitz has risen again." 
The day wore on, the enemy keeping his intrenched camp — Houston waiting un- 
til his axe-men had destroyed the bridge. About three o'clock, the two six- 
pounders were advanced, stationed about two hundred yards from the enemy's 
breast-works, and began a well directed fire of grape and canister. The decisive 
moment had come. "Charge," shouted Houston, and gave the war-cry, "Remem- 
ber the Alamo." All along the line the word was echoed, and the men sprang 
forward like tigers. — "Alamo, Alamo," one hoarse, tragic scream, that struck 
terror into the hearts of the foe, already conscience-stricken. At the same mo- 
ment there dashed along the Texan line a horseman, covered with mud and foam, 
swinging an axe, and shouting, as he had been instructed, "/ have cut down 
Vinci's bridge — now fight for your lives, and remember the Alamo, ^^ and then 
the phalanx, held back for a moment by the strange figure, rushed upon the foe, 

Houston himself leadinsr 



the center column. The 
Mexicans stood in perfect 
order, withholding their 
fire- until the Texan s were 
within sixty paces, when 
a sheet of flame burst 
from their rifles, and a 
hail of lead was poured 
against the Texan ranks. 
They aimed too high, however, and the line showed few gaps. Houston's horse 
received a few balls in the breast, and one shattered the General's ankle, but 
man and horse continued to lead. On went the Texans, withholding their fire until 
each could pick out his man, and then with terrible results poured in a volley. At 
once muskets were clubbed — they had no bayonets — and a fierce hand-to-hand com- 
bat ensued. The rifle breeches broken, they threw them aside, and drew pistols, 
emptied them upon the enemy, and then, having no time to reload, hurled them 
into the faces of the foe, and drawing bowie knives, cut and hewed their way through 
the Avail of human flesh, while ever above the din and cries and battle smoke, shrill 
and loud, rose the war-cry, "Remember the Alamo — the Alamo — remember the 
Alamo." The Mexicans fought well, but nothing could withstand the onslaught of 
the avengers, and they were soon in utter rout. Many were pursued and stabbed in 




A MKXICAN HOME. 



THE ROUT COMPLETE. 



535 



the back by the Texans; others, sinking down, plead for mercy, with the cry, "Me 
no Alamo, me no Alamo." Before the center broke, the two wings had been put to 
inglorious flight — not, however, until they had made desperate charges upon the 
Texan line. Once a di- 
vision of their infantry' , 
more than five hundred 
strong, charged upon a 
battalion of Texas infan- 
try, scarce a third of 
their number. Seeing 
his men waver, Houston 
galloped to their front, 
shouting, "Come on, my 
brave fellows, your Gen- 
eral leads you." The 
battalion halted, wheeled 
into perfect alignment, 
like veterans, and Hous- 
ton at once gave the or- 
der to fire. There was 
a single explosion — the 
battalion had fired as one 
man — then through the 
smoke they dashed, kill- 
ing with the uplifted rifle 
all that the bullet had 
spared, and left behind 
them of the enemy but 
thirty-two living men. 
The rout was now com- 
plete and universal. Ev- 
erywhere over the prairie 
squads of Texans were to 
be seen pursuing the flee- 
ing Mexicans. Many were overtaken and killed as they tried to make their way 
through the tall grass. The Mexican cavalry spurred their steeds and galloped for 




PLAN OF BATTLE. 



536 GOLIAD AND THE ALAMO AVENGED. 

Vinci's bridge, hotly pursued by the victors, but on arriving there it was gone ; a ter- 
rible scene followed, the desperate fugitives spurred their horses into the stream ; others 
dismounted and threw themselves into the water; some were entangled by their 
trappings, and sank with their steeds ; those who crossed found the opposite bank 
too steep for their horses, and fell back; while on the struggling mass in the river 
was poured a deadly fire by their pursuers, until the water was red with blood, and 
its current choked with the dead. Thus was fought and won the battle of San 
Jacinto ; Texan independence won ; Goliad and the Alamo avenged. Nine hundred 
stand of English muskets, three hlindred sabres, two hundred pistols, three hundred 
mules, one hundred horses, provisions, clothing, tents, and twelve thousand dollars 
in silver, were the open and tangible results, but its moral effect was far greater. 
Only seven men were known to have escaped from the field ; there were eight hundred 
prisoners — the rest were lying dead on the field and prairie, and in the morasses of 
the San Jacinto. Even Santa Anna, the dictator, was captured — taken by Captain 
Sylvestre, of Cincinnati, as he was endeavoring to escape in the garb of a peasant. 
After the battle, two ravens were seen hovering over the field. Some of the men 
proposed to shoot them. "No," said Houston, "it is a good omen. Their heads 
are pointed westward. 'Tis the course of empire. I own I am superstitious about 
the raven." 

In this battle Houston showed his generalship — in the succeeding weeks he was to 
prove his statesmanship. The army, remembering Goliad and the Alamo, and 
countless other outrages, was for holding a drum-head court-martial, and execut- 
ing Santa Anna summarily. Houston opposed this strenuously, contending that he 
was entitled to protection as a prisoner of war, and asked them to consider 
what would be the moral effect upon the opinion of the world of such a tak- 
ing off. He afterward urged this view upon the Texan Congress, and it was largely 
through his efforts that the Mexican President was returned to his country. Another in- 
stance of his statesmanship may be given. On setting out for Gonzales that fatal 
morning, after failing to hear the gun of the Alamo, he dispatched a messenger to 
the Convention he had just left, recommending them to adopt a resolution declaring 
Texas a part of Louisiana^ under the French treaty of 1803. The Convention failed 
to do this ; had they done so, it would have hastened Texan annexation by several years. 

The summer of 1836, Houston spent in pain and feebleness, recovering from the 
wound received at San Jacinto. In the autumn, he was elected first President of the 
new Republic of Texas, and was publicly inaugurated October 22d, 1836, and at once 
set about striving to evolve from the chaos of civil and military misrule, order, law, 



DRAMATIC CLOSE OF HIS PUBLIC CAREER. 637 

and stability. We can notice but the most important acts of his administration. 
One of the first of them was to send an envoy, Colonel William H. Wharton, to 
begin negotiations with President Jackson for the annexation of Texas. These 
negotiations were so far crowned with success, that in March, 1837, Congress passed 
a resolution declaring Texas a free and independent State, but the free-soil party was 
not ready to consent to its annexation. The Constitution of Texas provided that the 
President should be ineligible to re-election for the succeeding term, and Houston 
went out of office December 12th, 1838. He had found the government chaos ; he 
left it perfectly organized, only a million and a half dollars in debt, at peace with 
the Indians, and its independence acknowledged. Houston was at once elected to the 
Texas Congress. The administration of his successor, President Lamar, was puerile 
and mischievous, and at the expiration of his term, in 1841, the people were glad to 
call Houston again to the chief magistracy; and again for two years he governed the 
infant republic wisely and well, rescuing her from internal broils, bankrupt credit, 
and Indian hostility, and crowning all by securing the annexation of Texas to the 
United States. Almost the first act of the new State was to send her savior and ex- 
President to the Senate. Houston took his seat in that august body in 1846, and 
during the exciting debates of that stirring period, spoke eloquently and labored ef- 
fectively for the Union. His term in Congress covered fourteen years, and was 
honorable to himself and useful to his country. Retiring, in 1860, an old man, to his 
prairie home, the people insisted on electing him a third time Governor, and he was 
holding that office when, in 1861, the whirl-wind of passion swept Texas into the South- 
ren Confederacy. He opposed the act with all his old-time fire and eloquence, but 
it was passed over his head. He at once resigned his office, and retiring to his home 
he planted upon his log-cabin a four-pounder, and told his State "to go to ruin if 
she would, but she should not drag him along with her;" and with this dramatic act 
closed his public career. He steadily resisted every effort to sweep him into the Con- 
federate ranks, and died in peace, at Huntsville, Texas, July 25th, 1863. 

THOMAS HART BENTON. 

If you had entered the Senate of the United States any time between the years 
1820 and 1850— the most pregnant period of our history before the war— amid the 
group of striking and impressive figures which made the Chamber so illustrious in 
that age, you would have singled out one for his personal appearance alone — Thomas 
Hart Benton. More than any other man there, he seemed the ideal Senator. In- 
vested with the flowing toga, one would have declared that "the noblest Roman of 



538 THOMAS H. BENTON. 

them all" had returned to show the men of the new age what was the port and bear- 
ing of the Conscript Fathers, the most potent, grave, and reverend Senators of the 
Capitoline; albeit, there was in his air and manner something suggesting the quota- 
tion, *'I am Sir Oracle, let no dog bark." The lofty brow, surmounted by masses 
of dark, curly hair, the deep set eyes, aquiline nose, firm mouth and chin, bespoke 
the patrician. He was scrupulously neat in dress, dignified in air and manner. 

Benton was a power in the Senate for thirty years, and was an example of the 
wisdom of Missouri, which, having discovered a capable man, kept him in his seat — 
since the usefulness of a Congressman, whatever his talents, depends largely on his 
length of service. A most interesting career this favorite son had. At the moment 
of taking his seat in the Senate — 1820 — the great anti-slavery conflict began. Then 
followed in succession questions the most vital and interesting — internal improve- 
ments, nullification projects, removal of the Indians, disposal of the public lands, 
United States Bank, then the protective system, and other economic questions, 
French spoliations, Florida Indian War, annexation of Texas, assumption of State 
debts, the British northern boundary, — "54,° 40' — or fight," Mexican War, the admis- 
sion of California, — all argued and discussed by the giants of debate, wherein the 
richest gifts of oratory, learning, and statesmanship were displayed, and in which 
Benton bore himself like a tried champion, winning the attention of the entire coun- 
try, and the approval of his constituents. Mr. Benton's services to his country were 
confined entirely to the Senate. During these thirty years he had no political ambi- 
tion outside of it. "He never entered any Congressional caucus or convention to 
nominate a president or vice-president, nor even suffered his name to go before such 
a body for any such nomination. He never had office or contract for himself or any- 
one of his blood. He detested office-seeking and office-hunting, and all changes in 
politics followed by demand for office. He refused many offices which were pressed 
upon him — the mission to Russia, by President Jackson ; Secretary of War, by Mr. 
Van Buren, and Minister to France, by Mr. Polk." Three appointments intended for 
him he would have accepted if occasion had offered : command of the army in Mex- 
ico, if war had been declared during Jackson's presidency; command of the army 
if war had taken place with France, in 1836, under the same President ; command 
of the army in Mexico, under President Polk, with rank of Lieutenant-General, if the 
bill creating that rank had not been defeated in the Senate, after passing the House. 
His ambition outside of the Senate was all military. 

The story of Benton's life is full of instruction and encouragement — and little else 
— for boys of capacity. He came of good stock — son of Colonel Jesse Benton, an able 



TAUGHT BY HIS MOTHER. 



539 



lawyer, and of Ann Gooch, of the old colonial family of that name in Virginia, and 
was born near Hillsborough, Orange county, North Carolina, March 14th, 1782. 
He was first cousin to Mrs. Clay, born Lucretia Hart, the wife of Henry Clay. His 
father dying before he was eight years of age, he, with a numerous family of young 
children, was left to the care of his widowed mother. Nobly did she acquit herself 




THOMAS H. BEKTON. 



of the responsibility. "She was a woman of reading and observation," says her son, 
"solid reading and observation of the men of the Eevolution, brought together by the 
course of hospitality of the times, in which the houses of friends, not taverns, were 
the universal stopping-places." She was the best teacher and mentor the boy could 
have had. At the age of ten he was reading solid books with her, "studying the 



540 STUDIES LAW MADE COLONEL OF MALITIA. 

great examples of history, and receiving encouragement to emulate their example." 
She was, also, a pious and religious woman, and attended carefully to the moral and 
religious education of her children. In due time the lad was placed at school, first 
under Eichard Stanford, a young New England emigrant; later at Chapel Hill, the 
University of North Carolina, which he was forl5ed to leave in a few months by the 
removal of the family to the wilderness of Tennessee, where his father, before his 
death, had acquired a great landed estate (40,000 acres), intending to reside at Nash- 
ville. His mother had decided to settle on this tract, and Thomas, being the eldest 
son, was needed to open a home in the wilderness. For this home, the mother 
selected three thousand acres at West Harpeth, twenty-five miles south of Nashville, 
on the Indian frontier. "The widow Benton's" was the outside settlement between 
civilization and the powerful southern tribes which spread to the Gulf of Mexico. 
The Indian wars had just been terminated, and the boundary which these great tribes 
were enabled to exact, brought their frontier almost to the gates of Nashville — within 
twenty-five miles — for the line actually touched the outside line of the estate. The 
Indians swarmed about it. Their great war-trail — the trail on which they came for 
blood and plunder in time of war, for trade in time of peace — led through it. Here 
the boy, with his twenty odd slaves, spent his youth and early manhood, winning a 
home — a beautiful plantation it became — from the forest, clearing, burning; rearing 
log-cabins, a mill, school-house, and church ; attracting other settlers by generous 
leases, and at last seeing a thriving village spring from the gloomy forest. Mean- 
time he was reading and studying books of solid merit — history and geograph}^ the 
lightest, — books on national, civil and common law chiefly, for his heart was set on 
entering his father's profession. By and by he was licensed, and began to practice 
under the encouragement of Andrew Jackson, James Robertson, Judge McNairy, and 
others prominent at the bar, who saw that the young man had promise, and would be- 
conle useful to the State. He also served a term in the General Assembly of Ten- 
nessee, and was the author of the Judicial Reform Act, substituting the Circuit Court 
system for the Superior Courts ; author also of a humane act giving slaves the ben- 
efit of a trial by jury. Then came the war of 1812, — three thousand volunteers were 
raised to defend New Orleans, "raised in a flash by the prestige of Jackson's name, 
and the ardent addresses of Benton, flying from muster-ground to muster-ground, 
and stimulating the inherent courage and patriotism of the young men." Benton 
was made Colonel of one of the three regiments, descended to New Orleans, the 
British did not attack, the force returned to Tennessee, Avas temporarily disbanded, 



SENT TO TIIK IT. S. SENATE. 541 

and then called into service again by the l)reaking out of the Creek Avar, in which 
Benton bore himself bravely and honorably. The Indian war over, he proceeded to 
Washington, and was appointed by President Madison, Lieutenant-Colonel of Infan- 
try in the army (1813). Later proceeding to Canada for service, he was met by 
news of peace, and the army then having no attractions for him, he soon hung out 
his shingle in what was then the frontier village of St. Louis, on the banks of the 
Mississippi. Four years later, Missouri was admitted to the Union, and the vounir 
lawyer was sent as her Eepresentative in the Upper House, as before narrated. While 
in the Senate, Keuben Davis, afterward Congressman from Mississippi, said of him: 
"In my opinion, the weightiest man in the Senate or nation. It was his mind and 
will that upheld the administration of General Jackson, which could not have existed 
a week without him. Every great measure of that administration was formulated, if 
not conceived, by Benton ; and it was his indomitable will that bore down all oppo- 
sition." 

I once heard a pleasant story of the great man while in Congress, which illustrates 
one phase of his character. Conversing in the lobby of the Senate one day, he was 
approached by a young man, son of an old friend of his Indian fighting days, who 
familiarly put his hand on the Colonel's shoulder, in the warmth of his feeling at 
seeing the old companion-in-arms of his father, of whom from childhood he had 
heard so much, and whom he had learned to love and revere. The familiarity of his 
appoach was considered by the Colonel unpardonable, entitling the man who dared to 
make it to instant chastisement. He turned, his eyes gleaming, wrath kindling in his 
face, but before he had time either to utter a fierce word, or deliver the blow, the 
young man told who he was, and gave vent to his delight and love. The transition 
which the haughty Senator underwent was wonderful ; all traces of anger and pride 
instantly disappeared. His face beamed with joy and affection, and throwing both 
arms around the youth, he pressed him to his breast with a father's embrace. 

Another phase of his character is illustrated by this story: "I see," he once said, 
speaking to a friend, "that the newspapers harp constantly on my egotism. What 
do you say? Am I an egotist?" The friend, thus brought to book, had to acknowl- 
edge that there was some truth in the charge. "Ah, well," exclaimed Benton, "this 
is the matter in a nut-shell : I have an ego of which a man has a right to be proud; 
l)ut these dirty little creatures who find fault with me have not, and that's what 
makes them so angry." 

In his early years he had a desperate encounter with Andrew Jackson, and in 1817 
killed Mr. Charles Lucas in a duel on Bloodv Island, a little below St. Louis. For 



542 Last years and death. 

many years he seemed to be proud, austere, and forbidding in manner, harsh and vin- 
dictive in temper, attaching but few people to himself except by the weight and 
power of his intellect, and his stainless public as well as private character, according 
to the standard of the times. In the terrible explosion of the great gun on the United 
States steamer Princeton, in February, 1844, while the vessel was making an excur- 
sion down the Potomac, Col. Benton believed himself to have been almost miracu- 
lously delivered from instant death. Just before the firing took place, the Colonel, 
who had secured the best position to see the discharge, was, greatly to his annoyance, 
called away by some pressing demand, and his stand was occupied by Mr. Gilmer, 
the Secretary of the Navy, who, with several others, was killed. Col. Benton, as 
well as nearly all on board, was violently thrown to the deck by the shock. His merci- 
ful preservation wrought a wonderful change in him. He sought reconciliation with 
his political and personal enemies, became placable and kind, and while the old nature 
would ever and again crop out, he was, for the most part, a new man, delighting to 
do generous deeds towards those who had wronged him. After the loss of his seat 
in the Senate, he served one or two terms in the House of Eepresentatives, was the 
candidate for the governorship of Missouri, in 1856, and was defeated. His last 
years were devoted to the preparation of his "Thirty Years' View," and to the 
^'Abridgment of Debates in Congress, from the Foundation of the Government to 
1857;" works of the highest value to the student of American history. He died at 
Washington, in 1858, and was buried at St. Louis. 

LEWIS CASS. 

If Sam Houston was the hero of the Southwest, Lewis Cass was the central figure 
of the Northwest. He was born October 9th, 1782, at Exeter, in the shadow of 
the granite mountains of New Hampshire, of Puritan stock. His father was a cap- 
tain in the Revolution, and shared in nearly all the battles of that stirring era. His 
mother was a woman of masculine vigor of intellect, of piety, and kindliness of heart, 
who managed the farm, and reared her children, while the husband was away at the 
wars. The lad was well educated for that day, at the now famous institution, Phil- 
ips's Exeter Academy, in his native town, and, at the age of seventeen, removed with 
his parents to Ohio, crossing the mountains on foot; then studied law, and, in 1802, 
was admitted to the bar, though not yet twenty-one years of age. He underwent all 
the experiences of a frontier lawyer in those days, gaining the good opinion of all; 
was made Marshal of Ohio, by Jefferson, in 1807, volunteered in the War of 1812, 
and was commissioned Colonel of the Third Regiment of Ohio Volunteers. The 



Lewis cass. 



643 



little army, under Brigadier-General Hull, marched to Detroit, and participated 
in that brief and inglorious campaign which ended with the cowardly surrender 




LEWIS CASS. 



of Detroit by Hull, on August 16th, 1812. Cass served with honor in this campaign 
— his energy and bravery forming a startling contrast to his commander's pol- 
troonery. He was absent from the fort on detached service at the time of its 



544 GOVEENOR OF THE TERRITORY OF MICHIGAN. 

surrender, and on returning, being ordered to deliver up his sword, indignantly 
refused, and breaking the blade, threw it away. Later he was made Brigadier- 
General of the regular army, and was General Harrison's most trusted subordi- 
nate in that glorious campaign of 1813, which closed with the re-capture of De- 
troit, and the subjugation of Canada. After the victory he remained in com- 
mand of the Northwestern frontier, and in October, 1813, was appointed by Madi- 
son, Governor of the Territory of Michigan. In this position General Cass earned 
his proudest laurels ; his services during this period justly entitle him to rank among 
the founders of the Eepublic. It was only after a struggle that he accepted it. He 
was permanently settled, as he had supposed, in the rapidly growing State of Ohio. 
He was in the front rank of his profession. His family were happy and contented 
in their beautiful home on the banks of the Muskingum. On the other hand, the 
duties of the new position were arduous, its responsibility great, its rewards small. 
All that vast region now occupied by the great States of Michigan, Wisconsin, and 
Minnesota, was under his jurisdiction. Numerous Indians roved through it, whose 
tendencies to rob, burn and slay, were to be checked and controlled. American citi- 
zens who had fled from their homes during the war were now returning to find those 
homes destroyed and their business ruined. They were to be protected, and the 
country opened and settled. To this task General Cass brought the wisdom of the 
statesman, and the decision of the soldier. His policy was to buy the possessory 
rights of the Indians to the vast region over which they roamed, to limit their hunt- 
ing grounds to a narrower compass, to provide them with schools and churches, to 
teach them mechanics and agriculture, and to plant on the land thus purchased, set- 
tlements that, increasing and spreading, should ripen into States. 

A startling experience befell General Cass in July, 1814, in making his first essay 
at carrying out these plans. He was appointed, together with General Harrison, to 
treat with the Indians who had been at war against the Government. The two com- 
missioners, almost unattended, proceeded to Greenville, Ohio, and, to their amaze- 
ment, found five thousand Indians assembled there in council. They had not ex- 
pected a quarter of that number. The council met, and the two envoys freely and 
boldly declared their views to the chiefs — that the Great Father claimed, by discoA'ery 
and conquest, the whole country west to the Great River, and that of this vast region 
they were empowered to offer the red-men only so much as was necessary for their 
support, and besought their red brothers to adopt the customs of the whites, look to 
their mother, the earth, for support, instead of to the chase, and to give up their 



AN EXCITING COUNClL-MEETINGf. 



545 



rude, predatory, uncertain means of living, for the peaceful existence of civilized 
men. This open and sweeping declaration, we are told, produced great commotion 
in the council. The tomahawk was brandished, and glistening knives held before the 
eyes of the Commissioners; but they, nothing daunted, repeated their declaration 
still more emphatically, and assured the savages that if they did not accept these 
terms it would be taken as proof that they still meditated war. This further inflamed 
the rage of the Indians, and they began whirling, twisting, and dancing about the 
handful of whites like so many demons, and threatening indiscriminate massacre, but 
the undaunted mien, the unquailing eye, the subtle air of command of these superior 
spirits, overawed them. By degrees they grew calm. Certain influential chiefs spoke 
in favor of the proposition of the Great Father. The Indians finally withdrew and 




I.KWI5 CASS's r,0\H0OD HOME IN NEW HAMPSHIRE. 

held a council among themselves, after which, each chief, advancing, took the Gen- 
eral's tomahawk, flourished it, and said he would consider it as his own — their way 
of declaring for peace. On July 22d, a treaty of peace with the Wyandots, Delawares, 
Shawnees, Senecas, and Miamis was signed, restoring tranquility to the frontiers, and 
a large body of warriors accompanied General Cass on his return to Detroit, as auxil- 
iaries. In June, 1815, Governor Cass removed his family to Detroit, and was ever 
after identified socially, as well as political!}', with the great territoiy which he gov- 
erned. It had at this time not above six thousand inhabitants scattered over a wide 
area, and in great destitution from the calamities of war. There was not a real road 
in the territory, nor a bridge, church, school-house, nor court-house. The entire 
35 



546 JOURNEYS THROUGH THE WILDERNESS. 

social and political fabric, and the jurisprudence, were yet to be constructed. To 
this work Governor Cass now put his hand; the State Constitutions, and excellent 
judicial systems of the three great Northwestern States, are largely the work of his 
commanding intellect. We can glance only in the most general way at the various 
steps by which he effected this. And first the Indian question — the most perplex- 
ing of all. The law made him Superintendent of Indian Affairs within his territory, 
and he was also given by President Madison authority over all Indians east of the 
Mississippi and north of the Ohio. Councils were to be held with the scattered 
tribes, treaties of peace formed, annuities distributed, difiiculties and causes of dis- 
content removed. This necessitated frequent, long, and dangerous journeys, where- 
ever practicable in birch canoes along the water courses, otherwise on horseback, fol- 
lowing Indian trails through gloomj^ forests. The land journeys were slow and 
laborious, not averaging generally over thirty miles a day. At night the horses were 
spanceled — that is, hobbled, by tying a band around the forelegs, so that they could 
not stray far, — the camp-fire kindled, the frugal supper of whatever game they had 
been able to kill, eaten, and then the party lay down with their saddles for pillows, 
and slept as only forest wanderers can sleep. By the water-ways traveling was much 
more comfortable and expeditious. An Indian canoe, made of birch bark fastened 
to light cedar ribs is, to appearance, a slender and fragile thing, but in the hands of 
an Indian, or voyageur, is one of the safest and fastest of the boats propelled by one- 
man power, riding the waves like a duck, and sent forward rapidly by the powerful 
sweep of the paddle. Many thousands of miles General Cass traveled in these boats. 
A flotilla dancing over the waves, propelled by Indians in paint and feathers, and 
voyageurs in red or blue blouses and parti-colored shirts, made a picturesque and 
striking spectacle. Arrived at a portage, the light canoes were taken on their backs 
by the oarsmen, borne over the divide, and launched on other waters, while the pas- 
sengers followed on foot. On one of these portages General Cass records having met 
a squaw with all her worldly possessions on her back — a little birch canoe, a kettle, 
mat-house, blanket, and one or two other articles — and with them she traveled in 
good spirits, alone and undefended. 

When he assumed control. General Cass estimated the number of Indians in his 
territory at forty thousand, with nine thousand warriors capable of bearing arms. 
They claimed eleven millions of acres of land in Michigan alone, having, they said, 
derived the patent directly from the Great Spirit, and they held that it would be an 
act of gross impiety to bargain them away to the whites ; so that religious bigotry 



SUCCESSFUL TREATIES WITH THE INDIANS. 



547 



was callied to individual greed and jealousy, to prevent the transfer; yet this difficult 
task Governor Cass accomplished. His first triumph was in September, 1817, when, 
together with General MacArthur, his fellow-commissioner, he secured a cession 
from the Indians of nearly all their lands in Ohio, with large tracts in Indiana and 
Michigan. At this council, held at Fort Meigs, Ohio, the project of removing the 
Indians beyond the far-off Mississippi, was first broached. This treaty extinguished 




PIONEEK HOME IN NOHTH AIICHKiAN. 



the Indian title to four million acres of fertile land, attached Michigan and Ohio, 
and suggested to the Indian mind the policy of removal. In October, 1818, at St. 
Mary's, he made three distinct treaties, with three separate tribes— Delawares, Pot- 
tawatomies, and Miamis— for lands in Indiana. In 1819, at Saginaw, a treaty with 
the Chippewas, by which about six million acres in northern Michigan were secured. 



548 SECRETARY OF WAR — MINISTER TO FRANCE. 

Ill 1820, hy order of government, accompanied by Henry E. Schoolcraft, the emi- 
nent mineralogist and ethnologist, and by several other gentlemen of scientific ac- 
quirements, he made an extended exploration of the Northern Peninsula, and the ad- 
jacent region to the west as far as the Mississippi, and up that stream to the head of 
navigation at Eed Cedar Lake. The party was out from the 24th of May to the 
24th of September, traveling over four thousand, two hundred miles, not meeting 
with a single serious accident, and collecting a great mass of topographical and min- 
eralogical information of the highest value. It was the first properly organized gov- 
ernment exi^edition into that region, now one of the richest and most important of 
the Union. 

In this useful and arduous career. General Cass continued until the summer of 
1831, when President Jackson called him to be Secretary of War in his re-organized 
cabinet, in place of John H. Eaton, resigned. As Secretaiy of War, the whole 
Indian question came practically into General Cass's hands, the Interior Department 
not having been organized. This responsibility he discharged in the most satis- 
factory manner. The removal of Indian tribes out of the boundaries of sovereign 
States into public lands beyond the advance lines of civilization — the policy of gov- 
ernment since 1817 — was his idea, and largely occupied his attention while Secretary 
of War. In 1836, finding his health failing under the onerous duties of his office, 
he resigned, and was at once appointed minister to France by President Jackson. Of 
his career as minister, we need only say that it was honorable to himself and satis- 
factory to his countrymen. In 1842, England was about concluding a quintuple 
treaty with Austria, Eussia, Prussia, and France, for the suppression of the slave 
trade ; this was warmly opposed by General Cass, on the ground that it was only a 
pretext on the part of England to secure the right of search of our vessels on the 
high seas, a right she had been asserting and we resisting for thirty years. In this 
position he was not sustained by Daniel Webster, then Secretary of State, and he, 
therefore, late in 1842, resigned his commission. 

He now spent several years in private life striving to repair his fortune which had 
been much impaired by his devotion to public affairs. At the Democratic Presi- 
dential Convention at Baltimore, in 1844, General Cass was a prominent candidate, 
receiving for several ballots the highest number of votes next to Van Buren, but the 
nomination was at length given by a fusion of the supporters of both, to James K. 
Polk, of Tennessee. In 1845, he was elected, b}^ the Legislature of Michigan, Sen- 
ator, in the place of Augustus S. Porter, and took his seat in the Senate in Decern- 



LOVE OF COUNTRY GREW WITH AGE. 549 

ber, 1845. His conduct there was such as to win the fullest confidence of the people, 
and by the Democratic Presidential Convention at Baltimore, in 1848, he was 
nominated for President without a struggle. He was defeated, however, by the 
successful soldier, Zachary Taylor, and by the defection of the adherents of Mr. 
Van Buren, in New York. He was again elected to the senatorship— which he had 
resigned on being nominated for President— and resumed his duties in that body. 
He remained in the Senate until 1857, when he took the portfolio of the State De- 
partment under President Buchanan, but resigned it in 1860 and retired to his home 
in Detroit, where he resided until his life closed, in 186(3. 

The character and genius of the man are clearly shown in this extract from a speech 
made, at the age of seventy-three, in the Senate, a few days before its adjournment. 

"For myself, sir, if Providence permit, I shall remain in the position I occupy 
during the residue of my term of service, unless, indeed, the Democracy of Michigan 
should require me to do what my convictions of duty would prohibit me from doing; 
in which event, I should retire without hesitation to private life, where, indeed, I am 
sufficiently warned, by the years that have passed over me, I must soon retire, come 
what may. But as my life draws toward its close, age, as it advances, instead of 
enfeebling, adds strength to my love of country, and continues to console me with 
bright hopes of her future power and stability." 



THOMAS CORWIN. 

The honorable Hugh McCulloch says: "Of Mr. Corwin it is not too much to say, 
that in wit, in humor, in general knowledge, in a ready command of language, in 
voice, in mobility and expressiveness of features, in all the requisites for fascinat- 
ing and effective stump oratory, he was without an equal. 

"Men would travel twenty or thirty miles to listen to the matchless orator, and even 
his political opponents could not help joining in the applause which his speeches 
never failed to call forth. His memory was not only a perfect store-house of histor- 
ical facts, but also of anecdotes and stories. It was worth a <Sabbath day's 
journey' to hear 'Tom' Corwin (as he was familiarly called) tell a story. No 
matter how frequently heard, it was always made fresh and racy by his variable and 
inimitable manner of telling it. While to his extraordinary control of the muscles of 



550 



TOM. COEWIN. 



his face, "vvhich were always in accord with the sentiment he was expressing and the 
anecdotes he was relating, and to his charming voice the attractiveness of his speeches 
was in no small degree attributable, they were never lacking in eloquence or force. 
He had alwa3^s something good to say, and he never failed to be instructive as well 

as fascinating. His power 
over popular and promiscu- 
ous assemblies was immense. 
Plain farmers would not only 
travel long distances to hear 
him, but they would stand 
for hours under the burning 
sun or in a pelting rain, 
seemingly oblivious of every- 
thing but the speeches by 
which their attention was ab- 
sorbed. 

"Nor was his fame as an 
orator coniined to Ohio. By 
his speeches in Congress he 
acquired a national reputa- 
tion. Made uj)on subjects 
which have long ceased to 
be interesting, no one can 
read them now without feel- 
ling that they place him in 
the front rank of American 
orators." 

Mr. Corwin was born in 
Bourbon county, Kentucky, 
in 1794; but, in 1798, re- 
moved with his father's fam- 
ily to Warren county, Ohio, 
then a frontier district. The 
little schooling he had was obtained in the log-cabin institutes of the new country, and 
was confined to three months of the year, the rest of his time in his boyhood being de- 
voted to work upon his father's farm. When seventeen years of age, during the last 




^^ /^L-^V^ V^l>^ 






y%^<G C^rr^^r^<^ 



THOMAS COKWiN. 



*'THE WAGONER BOY." 551 

war with Great Britain, he volunteered to drive a wagon loaded with provisions, 
through an unbroken and perilous way from his father's house to the army of Gen- 
eral Harrison, then almost starving, and thus acquired the nick-name of the "wagoner 
boy," which stuck to him through life. Not long after, a painful accident befell one 
of his knees, which kept him a long time a prisoner in the house. He turned the 
period to good account by the diligent use of an elder brother's books, and soon be- 
came an insatiable student. When twenty -three years of age, he was admitted to the 
bar and began the practice of law, and his rare powers of application and eloquence 
soon brought him to the front in his profession. He served with distinction for one 
or two sessions in the Legislature of Ohio, and in 1830 was elected to the Congress 
of the United States, where his inimitable oratory gave him a national reputation. 
In 1840, he was elected Governor of Ohio, and in 1844 was sent to the Senate of the 
United States. In 1850, he took the portfolio of the Treasury Department in the 
presidency of Mr. Millard Fillmore, and some years later was again elected to the 
House of Representatives at Washington. He was appointed by Mr. Lincoln Minis- 
ter to Mexico, retired from that station in 1864, and died suddenly the next year at 
Washington. Through his long career his private character was as stainless and ex- 
emplar}^ as his public reputation was great. 

To succeed as a stump-speaker requires more varied gifts than any other style of 
the rhetorician's art. Eye, voice, hands, the whole body, must be under perfect con- 
trol, and with one swift, intuitive glance, the speaker must read his hearers, gauge 
their social and intellectual status, their prejudices, modes of thought and expression, 
and then adapt his remarks to the audience. Mr. Corwin often moved his hearers 
now to smiles and laughter, now to tears, again to anger and fierce resentment, so 
that faces would scowl and hands clinch. One great factor of his power was his 
voice. "It was soft, round, strong, and flexible," said a friend and admirer, 
"within the scope of a few brief sentences it would often expand from the lowest 
conversational and confidential tone, audible only in the speaker's immediate vicinity, 
to a climax which would startle his thousands of admirers in the remotest galleries." 
"Corwin was the bane of my existence in the gallery," said an old Congressional re- 
porter, on being told that Corwin was dead. "He could be heard only about half the 
time. When he had anything particularly good to say, he told it in a confidential 
manner, inaudible to our gallery, and as if it were intended only for the special 
benefit of his fellow-members. The reporters could never catch the point where the 
jokes came in." Another reporter, referring to this pecuharity of Corwin's, used 
to say that "when he had a good joke to tell, Corwin used to go into executive session." 



552 HIS POWER OF SARCASM. 

Mr. Corwin's manner in telling an apt story was more effective upon a large 
audience, and not less agreeable to a small party, than that of Mr. Lincoln ; but the 
two men told their stories for very different purposes. Mr. Lincoln's humor was the 
adjunct of his deep and earnest nature, and his stories were his peculiar and effective 
aro-uments in favor of wise and great principles. Corwin's humor was the primary, 
the essential part of his exuberant and jovial nature, and his witticisms served only 
the purposes of ridicule, pointing no moral, though in his hands his stories wonder- 
fully adorned an address and charmed an audience. He was not argumentative; was 
rather a rhetorician than a logician ; but he did not for that reason the less perceive 
and appreciate the salient points of an argument. Corwin seldom or never met ar- 
gument by argument ; he drew in reply on his inexhaustible fund of wit and humor, 
and effected his purposes by the use of sarcasm and the illustrative anecdotes which 
were such resistless weapons in his hands. His sarcastic powers made him, while in 
Cono-ress, the terror of all younger members. The most memorable of his sarcastic 
speeches was that on General Crary, a member of Congress, who had formerly been 
a General of Michigan militia in the old times when the militia were so supremely 
ridiculous. General Crary had sneeringly reflected in one of his speeches on Gen- 
eral Harrison's generalship, and had thereby roused the ire of Corwin, who had 
always been Harrison's champion. Having briefly alluded to the indignity which 
Crary had offered to the dead hero, Corwin continued: 

*'Now, the gentleman from Michigan being a militia member, as he has told us, in 

that simple statement has revealed the glorious history of toils, privations, sacrifices 

and bloody scenes, through which, we know from experience and observation, a 

militia officer in time of peace has to pass. We all, in fancy, see the gentleman 

from Michigan in that most dangerous and glorious event of the militia-general — a 

parade day. We can see the troops in motion, umbrellas, hoe and axe-handles, and 

other like deadly implements of war overshadowing all the field, when the leader of 

the host approaches ; 

'Far off bis coming shines.' 

"His plume, white after the fashion of the great Bourbons, is of ample length, and 
reads its doleful history in the bereaved necks and bosoms of forty neighboring hen- 
roosts. Like the great Suwarrow, he seems somewhat careless in forms and points 
of dress, hence his epaulets may be on his shoulders, back or sides, but still gleam- 
ing gloriously in the sun. Mounted is he, too, let it not be forgotton. Need I de- 
scribe to the colonels and generals of this honorable body, the steed which such 
heroes bestride on such occasions? No. I see the memory of other days is with 



TAKES DOWN GENERAL CRARY. 553 

you. You see before you the gentleman from Michigan, mounted on his crop-eared, 
bushy-tailed mare, the regular obliquities of whose hinder limbs is described by that 
most expressive phrase, 'sickle hams;' her height just fourteen hands, all told. 
Yes, sir, there you see his steed, that laughs at the 'shaking of the spear;' that is 
his 'war-horse, whose neck is clothed with thunder.' 

"We have glowing descriptions of Alexander the Great and his war-horse Buceph- 
alus, at the head of the Macedonian phalanx; but, sir, such are the improvements 
of modern times, that every one must see that our militia-general, with his crop- 
eared mare, with bushy fail and sickle ham, would literally frighten off the field a hun- 
dred Alexanders. But to the history of the parade day. The General, thus mounted 
and equipped, is in the field and ready for action. On the eve of some desperate 
enterprise, such as giving order to shoulder-arms, it may be there occurs a crisis, one 
of the accidents of war, which no sagacity could prevent. A cloud rises and passes 
over the sun. Here an occasion occurs for the display of that greatest of all traits 
in the character of a commander, that trait which enables him to seize upon and turn 
to good account events unlooked for as they arise. Now for the caution with which 
the Eoman Fabius foiled the skill and courage of Hannibal. A retreat is ordered, 
and troops and General, in a twinkling are found gone, safe ensconced in a neigh- 
boring grocery. But even here the General still has room for the exhibition of 
heroic deeds. Hot from the field, and chafed from the untoward events of the day, 
your General unsheathes his trenchant blade — eighteen inches in length you will re- 
member — and with an energy and remorseless fury he slices the water-melons that lie 
in heaps around him, and shares them with his surviving friends. 

"Others of the sinews of war are not wanting here. Whisky, that great traveler of 

modern times, is here also, and the shells of the water-melon are filled to the brim. 

Here asrain is shown how the extremes of barbarism and civilization meet. As the 

Scandinavian heroes of old, after the fatigues of war, drank wine from the skulls 

of their slaughtered enemies in Odin's halls, so now our militia-general and his 

forces, from the skulls of melons thus vanquished, in copious draughts of whisky 

assuage the heroic fire of their souls, after the bloody scenes of parade day. But, 

alas, for this short-lived race of ours, all things will have an end, and so even is it 

with the glorious achievements of our General. Time is on the wing, and will not 

stay its flight; the sun, as if frightened at the mighty events of the day, rides down 

the sky, and at the close of day, Avhen the 'hamlet is still,' the curtain of night 

drops upon the scene, 

'And glory, like the phceuix in its fires, 

Exhales in odors, blazes, and expires,'" 



554 HIS SPEECH UPON THE MEXICAN WAR. 

The unfortunate militia gentleman was not less confounded than dumbfounded by 
this reply ; and when John Quincy Adams, in the course of a debate on the following 
day, casually alluded, in his quiet way, to "the late lamented Mr. Crary," the whole 
House, including the victim, was convulsed with irresistible merriment. 

Mr. McCulloch says : 

"Mr. Corwin's speech upon the Mexican War was of an entirely different char- 
acter. There was in it some of his usual humor, which he could never entirely 
restrain, no matter what subject he might be discussing, but it was especially re- 
markable for its very able exposition of the unjustifiableness of the war. It is a 
speech that excites the same emotion now which I felt when I read it nearly forty 
years ago; a speech full of eloquent appeal to the honor of the Senate, and of 
scathing denunciation of the action of the Executive in commencing an aggressive 
war, without the authority of Congress, upon a friendly but feeble nation, for no 
other purpose than to obtain, by force, an extension of territory. 

"Mr. Corwin's rej^utation for patriotism can safely rest upon that speech. It 
commanded the attention of the Senate as few speeches have done. It was heartily 
responded to by the Senators who were in sympathy with the orator, and was 
listened to attentively by those who were already conmiitted to the war. It was ex- 
tensively published, and read with delight by the many thousands to whom the 
national honor was dearer than military renown, but, nevertheless, it was a most 
unfortunate speech for Mr. Corwin in respect to his political career. It was made 
when the nation was engaged in war; when the people were exulting over the suc- 
cess of the national arms at Palo Alto and Monterey, under General Taylor, and just 
before General Scott commenced his triumphant march from the Gulf to the Mexican 
capital ; when thousands of young men were offering their services as volunteers ; 
when the war-spirit of the multitude wns thoroughly aroused. For a Senator under 
such circumstances to oppose the war and advise the withdrawal of troops from 
Mexican territory, and for him to say, as Mr. Corwin did, that if he Avere a Mex- 
ican, 'he would welcome the invaders with bloody hands to hospitable graves,' was 
equivalent to signing with his own hands his political death-warrant. The unpop- 
ularity of this speech was deepened by the result of the war, which was soon after 
terminated by the capture of the City of Mexico." 

Few persons now living will be able to remember Corwin during the memorable 
campaign of 1840, when he gained for himself the sobriquet of the "Wagon Boy," 
and his great popularity as the most fascinating stump-speaker in the country. The 
Whig victory in that year was a double triumph for Corwin ; for he was at once 



HIS PART IN THE "LOG-CABIN" CAMPAIGN. 555 

the candidate for Governor of the party, and its great western champion in the effort 
to elect Harrison to the presidency. Although he knew he was personally popular, 
Corwin did not attempt to make the race for Governor on his own merits, but ran 

on those of Harrison's. In fact, no important principle was involved in his race 

indeed, none in that of Harrison. The wonderful uprising of the people was but a 
partisan revival — a political revolution — incited by the financial policy of President 
Jackson, and strengthened by the panic and distress of 1837-38. The excitement 
was very great ; no canvass for the presidency has ever been accompanied by such 
peculiar demonstrations. They were resorted to as necessary to excite interest in a 
contest involving only partisan issues, and were chiefly "sound and fuiy, signifying 
nothing." Harrison ran on the prestige gained at Tippecanoe. His greatest rec- 
ommendation for a place in the AVhite House, was that he had been born, reared, 
and had lived all his life in a "log-cabin," and he became better known as the "Lo"-- 
cabin Candidate" than as the "Conqueror of Tecumseh." A huge log-cabin, mounted 
on a wagon, was carried through Ohio with Tom Corwin, and appeared as his plat- 
form wherever he spoke. The people came to hear him in vast crowds, and he often 
spoke to audiences which covered, with their wagons, tents, and the inevitable log- 
cabins, several hundred square acres. The farmers, in the idle summer season, fol- 
lowed him from county to county, holding their barbecues at each point at which he 
spoke, and living, in the meantime, in their tents and log-cabins. The State, and, 
indeed, all the Northwest, was carried in a perfect blaze of excitement for Harrison ; 
and the "Wagon Boy" was elected Governor of Ohio. 

Corwin's opponent in the race was the then incumbent, Governor Wilson Shannon. 
During one of his trips, from one appointment to another, Corwin and the wife of 
Shannon were fellow-passengers in a public stage-coach. They had never met, and 
were unknown to each other. Mrs. Shannon had no escort, but carried only her 
infant boy in her arms. The remainder of the passengers consisted of Corwin's 
friends, who made the round of the State with him, and who were likewise ignorant 
of the presence of the rival candidate's "better half." They were not long left in 
this blissful ignorance; for the ladv, aroused bv their free use of "hard-cider" senti- 
ments, soon gave them to understand, in very plain English, that she was "a good 
Democrat," and "the w^ife of Governor Shannon, to boot." This announcement 
was rather startling to the gentlemen. Corwin was the first to recover his composure, 
and take advantage of the situation. Expressing himself as delighted at having met 
her, he took a seat beside Mrs. Shannon, and at once became very attentive to her. 
He told her of his acquaintance with her husband, spoke in highly complimentary 



5o(3 MEETS "THE WIFE OF GOVERNOR SHANNON."" 

terms of his character and public career, and expressed his unbounded admiration of 
the man. The lady was charmed, and begged several times to know the name of her 
new friend. Corwin found means to avoid answering that question. The lady 
overlooked this evasion, and told Corwin, in confidence (loud enough, of course, to be 
heard by the hard-cider men), that Governor Shannon was not to be beaten by "that 
fellow Tom Corwin, Avho was nothing, after all," she added, "Init a wagon boy when 
young." 

"And who now goes about the country," suggested Corwin, "making himself 
rediculous by driving a six-horse team, with a log-cabin mounted on a country wagon." 

"And who, they say, is as black as the ace of spades," chimed in the lady. 

"Black, Madam," exclaimed Corwin. "Black? Yes, black as the — I beg your 
pardon — as I am." 

Continuing the deception in a manner which kept his friends convulsed with 
smothered laughter, Corwin took the lady's baby in his arms, fondled and dandled 
it, calling it the "Young Governor," and carrying the heart of the mother by storm. 
At length the lady reached her destination, and informed Corwin so with a sigh of 
regret. The gallant, but unknown candidate, assisted the Governor's wife to alight, 
took the child in his arms, and carried it into the house. He saw the lady in her parlor, 
and laid the baby flat on its back in her lap. Holding it there for a moment, he said : 

"My dear Mrs. Shannon, I have laid the 'Young Governor' flat on his back, and 
I'm going to serve the 'Old Governor' the same way at the coming election. Good- 
by. I ought to have told you before that my name is — Tom Corwin, who was noth- 
ing but a wagon boy, and who is pretty black, I admit. Good by;" and before Mrs. 
Shannon could recover from her astonishment, he was gone. He did lay the "Old 
Governor" "flat on his back," but the latter returned the compliment two years later. 

There are a number of stories told about Corwin's dark complexion. The best of 
them, perhaps, is to the effect that one of the English capitalists who visited this 
country with Sir Morton Peto, in 1865, on being introduced to Corwin, asked him if 
"his tribe was at peace with the whites." Corwin must have enjoyed this as 

much as he did Marshall's mistake in recollecting him as one of his uncle's colored 
family servants. Singularly enough, Corwin was rather proud of his dark com- 
plexion, and frequently alluded to it. Several years before his death, while traveling 
with some friends from Washington to New York, conversation fell upon the sub- 
ject of American orators, and Corwin indulged, in his peculiar vein, in a long critique, 
interspersed with reminiscences and anecdotes, of Clay, Calhoun, John Quincy Adams, 
and the public speakers, and men who made the last generation memorable. A com- 



HIS SUCCESS AS AN ADVOCATE. 557 

panion, who had heard nearly all of them, disagreed with Corwin in some of his 
opinions, and particularly his estimate, or failure to estimate, himself; and said: 

"You must allow me to say, Mr. Corwin, that for elegance, refinement, and that 
beautiful imagery of the Orient, in which so many indulge, and so few know how to 
sustain, no one of our public speakers pleases me so much as Tom Corwin, of Ohio." 

Mr. Corwin bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment, and remarked that he 
"thought he might honestly accept it as such, as he claimed that it was a natural gift, 
descended to him from his ancient ancestors." 

"You Avill have noticed," he said, "my very dark complexion?" 

The other could not but admit, with a smile, that he had noticed that. 

"Well, I come by that complexion and my imagination in the same way, naturally, 
and from the same source — my ancestry. You may remember, that away back in 
1458, there figured among the Hungarian rulers, a great champion of that country, 
one Matthias Corvinus, or Corwin, who, as history has it, made his country formi- 
dable to her neighbors. Well, I am descended from that Magyar family of Corvinus. 
My father was named Matthias Corwin, and from that family I derived my complex- 
ion and imagination." 

Corwin was a great advocate, rather than a great lawyer. His reputation at the 
bar was chiefly due to his powers as an advocate, and his ability in that branch of the 
profession made his fortune several times over; for he spent three handsome fortunes 
in paying security debts. He was not a great lawyer — hardly a good practical lawyer, 
to intrust with small cases of little interest, and yet he was a great advocate, often 
wringing verdicts from cold-blooded jurjanen, in spite of law, fact, and justice. It 
used to be a common remark among lawyers, that to give Corwin the closing speech 
in defense of the vilest criminal, was to give him the case, as his appeals to a jury 
were equivalent to an acquittal. His reputation as a criminal lawyer was known all 
over the country, and caused him to be retained for the defense of some of the most 
desperate villains. Such trials were exactly in his vein, and yet he was not a "tragic" 
lawyer. His humor would "crop out" on the most serious occasions, and often pro- 
duced, in spite of the orator, an anti-climax which would injure his case. An in- 
stance of such a result to one of his grand pathetic appeals occurred in a western 
court. It will be remembered that Corwin, in the Senate, in 1847, arguing seriously 
against the morality of the war against Mexico, permitted his appreciation of broad 
humor to lead him into the extravagant expression, "If I were a Mexican, I would 
tell you : 'Have you not room in your own country to bury your dead men? If you 
come into mine, we will greet you with bloody hands, and welcome you to hospitable 



558 HIS GREAT SPEECH OF JANUARY 24:Tll, 18G0. 

graves." A few years after, when this exiDression, somewhat abbreviated and effect- 
ively changed, had been quoted by the newspapers as ''household words," Mr. Cor- 
win was retained as counsel for a man charged with murder, and who, he claimed, had 
acted in self-defense. Corwin had the closing speech, and the verdict was confidently 
expected to be with him. In his final appeal to the jury he pictured the condition of 
his client as endeavoring to avoid the difficult}^, portrayed the murdered man as forc- 
ing it upon him, dogging his steps, denouncing him as a coward, and at last threat- 
ening to strike him, "What," he exclaimed, "would you have done in such an 
emergency? What, sir;" turning to the prosecuting attorney, "what would you 
have done?" 

"Done," replied the attorney, eagerly clutching his opportunity, and springing to 
his feet — "done, sir? — I would have welcomed him with bloody hands to a hos- 
pitable grave." 

The jury was convulsed with laughter, and Corwin lost that case. 

Corwin's peculiarities of oratory may almost be said to have left him "without a 
parallel." The use of this extravagant and frequent quotation has made me reflect 
that I never heard of his being mentioned except in contrast to the various speakers 
of his time. I have heard and read of him quoted as in contrast to Douglas, Clay, 
Webster, Calhoun, and even Bob Toombs. After his return to Congress, in 1858-60, 
the utmost eagerness was manifested to hear him, and his great effort, on January- 
24th, 1860, urging conciliation, but never mentioning compromise, was listened to 
with profoundest attention by the leading men of both parties. Senators deserted 
their wing of the capitol, and swelled the multitude that clustered about him. He 
soon revealed the fact, that he had lost none of the charms of old. He had not 
spoken ten minutes, before the members from all sides had literally surrounded him, 
and revealed in bursts of rapturous applause that they had caught his spirit and felt 
the fire which burned within the speaker's heart. The scene in the House on this 
occasion, was one of the most interesting that has ever been witnessed in the splen- 
did new Hall of Representatives. 

The reader can imagine that Mr. Corwin was a delightful companion sociall3^ 
His magnetic influence was not less strongly and strangely felt at the fireside and so- 
cial board than on the rostrum — in fact, the conversational was his most effective 
style on the stump, in the forum, or halls of Congress. He was equal h^ attractive 
to old and young, and equally amusing and instructive in his conversation. It will 
be remembered, that it was while surrounded by his friends, and engaged in recall- 
ing recollections of his inglorious and lauijhable Mexican career, that he was stricken 



GEORGE D. PRENTICE EARLY TALENT FOR WRITING. 559 

down with paralysis. An old friend, whom he had parted with in Mexico, had come, 
among many others, to see him, and naturally conversation turned in the Mexican 
channel. After a time it lagged somewhat, and having nothing better to say, 
Corwin remarked to his friend that he was looking more bald than when they had 
parted. 

"Oh, yes," his friend said, and added, laughingly, that old apology of bald-pated 
men; "but then, you know, Csesar was bald." 

"Yes," returned Corwin "and for that matter it is also said that 'Ca3sar had 
fits.'" 

These were among the last intelligible words he uttered. Hardly had he spoken, 
than he fell from a seizure of paralysis, and was taken to his bed, from which he 
never rose agfain. 



GEORGE D. PRENTICE. 

Our gallery of the portraits of eminent western men would scarcely be complete 
without a sketch of George D. Prentice, the most eminent and influential journalist 
of his day in the great valley, if not in the country. Like the renowned orator of 
the same name (though differently spelled). Prentice was a native of New England, 
having been born in New London county, Connecticut, December 18th, 1802. 
He entered Brown University at the age of eighteen, and was graduated with honor at 
the commencement of 1823. He early showed a taste and talent for writing, and on 
leaving college, although engaged in teaching for a livelihood, wrote for the news- 
papers pieces both in prose and verse, whose bright, incisive quality, soon brought 
him into notice. In 1828, he was honored by an offer of the editorship of the 
"New England Review," then the leading literary periodical of New England. 
Certain political articles of the young editor attracted the attention of Henry Clay 
and the Whig leaders of Kentucky, and he was invited to prepare a biography of Mr. 
Clay, for use in the presidential campaign of 1831. This called Mr. Prentice to Ken- 
tuck}^ and opened a new career to the young author. The Whigs were without a party 
organ in Kentuckv at this time. The Jackson Democrats were strong in the 



560 



A BROTHER JOURNALIST S INTRODUCTION'. 



Louisville "Advertiser," edited by Shadrach Penn, one of the ablest journal- 
ists of his day, and the Whigs wished to secure a journalistic standard-bearer as 
potent for their cause. Fortunately their choice fell on Prentice. He removed to 
Louisville in 1830, and on November 24th, of that j^ear, issued the first number of 

the "Journal," which news- 
paper for thirt}^ years was the 
most influential newspaper 
west of the Alleghanies, and 
which still, after the lapse of 
sixty years, sways a larger 
constituency than any other 
south of the Ohio. His coni- 
ingwas not unheralded. Sha- 
drach Penn, who had hitherto 
reigned without an editorial 
rival, heard of his coming, 
and in the "Advertiser" of 
September 10th, 1830, two 
months before the advent of 
the "Journal," thus intro- 
duced him to Kentuckians; 

"George D, Prentice, and 
Mr. Buxton, of Cincinnati, 
have issued proposals for pub- 
lishing a daily paper in Lou- 
isville, which is to be edited 
by Mr. Prentice. AViilingthat 
the gentleman shall be known 
by the people whose patron- 
age he is seeking, we copy 
to-day from a Cincinnati pa- 
per his account of the late 
elections in Kentucky. The 
production may be viewed as a fair specimen of his 'fine literature,' his 'drollery, 
strong powers of sarcasm,' and, above all, his 'poetical capacity.' The respect and 
attachment he displays toward Kentucky (to say nothing of the Jackson party), must 
be exquisitely gratifying to the respectable portion of Mr. Chiy's friends in this city. 




GEORGE L). PRENTICE. 



PROVES AN AID INSTEAD OF AN INJURY. 5(31 

To them we commend the letter of Mr. Prentice as an erudite, chaste and veritable 
production worthy of the great editor who is hereafter to figure as Mr. Clay's cham- 
pion in the West. We may, moreover, congratulate them in consequence of the fair 
prospect before them; for, with the aid of such an editor, they cannot fail to effect 
miraculous revolutions or revulsions in the political world. The occupants of all our 
fish markets will be confirmed in their devotion to the opposition beyond re- 
demption. 

"The 'election account' referred to describes whiskey and apple-toddy as 'flowino- 
through our cities and villages like the Euphrates through ancient Babylon,' de- 
clares that 'Jacksonism and drunkenness stalked triumphant — an unclean pair of 
lubberly giants,' — and that a number of runners, each with a whiskey bottle poking its 
long neck from his pocket, were busily employed bribing voters, and each party kept 
half a dozen bullies under pay, genuine specimens of Kentucky alligatorism, to floo- 
every poor fellow who should attempt to vote illegally. A half a hundred of mortar 
would scarcely fill up tlie chinks of the skulls that were broken on that occasion." 

This, designed to injure the young editor, proved an aid, everyone being desirous of 
reading what so clever an author might write, so that the "Journal," on its first ap- 
pearance, was eagerly purchased, "and in four weeks from its birth was the most ex- 
tensively read paper that had ever been published in the State." 

Prentice, however, treasured up the attack, and in his own time resented it. This 
came as soon as he was established in his editorial seat. He at once began a war- 
fare against Penn, rarely exceeded in sharpness and bitterness by anything in the 
history of journalism. "Prentice's pen" says one who knew him, "bristled like the 
fretful porcupine, and he shot the pointed quills in every direction. * * He fre- 
quently made people laugh, sometimes stare, and often squirm, and he seemed ever 
equally indiff'erent as to wdiicli result flowed from his pen. The 'Journal' soon 
obtained political ascendenc}^, and as long as the Whig party existed, piloted it to 
victory in Kentucky in all State and national elections." 

One of Prentice's jokes on Penn is little known, and will show the nature and 
quality of the warfare between them. The year before, a horrible murder had 
occurred in New Orleans, and as it chanced, Prentice preserved a copy of the paper 
which gave an account of it. This he now took, dampened, folded and pressed 
neatly, so as to give it the appearance of being fresh from the press, then placed in 
a wrapper, and endorsed, "Compliments Clerk of the Steamer Wacousta, five daj's, 
seventy-eight hours out from New Orleans. Quickest trip on record. To Shadrach 
Penn, Editor 'Louisville Advertiser.' " This was sent to Penn just as his paper was 
36 



562 PAYS OFF AN OLD SCORF. 

going to press, who, tearing it open and seeing the item of murder, took several im- 
portant matters from the forms and had the new copy set in its place, adding to it 
elaborate editorial comments, and profuse thanks to the gentlemanly clerk of the 
elegant and fast Steamer Wacousta, etc., although in point of fact, the latter was 
one of the slowest and shabbiest boats on the river. When the "Advertiser" came 
out, there was a large laugh at Penn's expense, and all felt that Prentice was amply 
avenged. Always after, if the "Advertiser" made a "scoop," and was inclined to 
boast of it. Prentice would ask, "Did that item come by the Wacousta?" 

Of Prentice's work on the "Journal," Dr. Theodore S. Bell once said: "The wit 
and humor of Mr. Prentice were daily feasts to the readers of the 'Louisville Jour- 
nal,' and I readily recall to memory many persons who would sooner have done with- 
out breakfast than their morning 'Journal.' In this department of daily wit, humor, 
and delightful instruction, I think Mr. Prentice never had an equal. That this wit 
and humor should pass successfully, as it did, through a daily ordeal of nearly forty 
years, is one of the marvels of literature." 

Not in all of these wordy contests, however, did the poet-editor come off un- 
scathed. An instance is found in this caustic epigram, written on N. P.Willis, then, 
perhaps, the most popular writer of prose and verse in America : 

"Unwritten honors to tliy name belong, 

Willis, immortal both in prose and song-, 

Unwritten poetry thy pen inspires, 

Unwritten music, too, thy fancy fires. 

And more than all, philosophy divine, 

With Its unwritten beauties, all are thine. 

Oh, how much greater praise would be thy due, 

If thine own prose had been unwritten too." 

Which Willis turned into a boomerang by paraphrasing — 
''Unwritten honors do in truth belong, 
To him who gets a living by his song; 
Unwritten poetry though wits do mutter, 
And music, too, to him is bread and butter. 
And more than all, philosophy divine, 
Helps him to ask poor wits like thee to dine; 
Oh, how much greater praise would be your due, 
Tf your own wits could do as much for you." 

The warfare between Prentice and Penn continued for twelve years, or until 1842, 
when Penn, finding that his place as leading editor of his State had been taken by 
the interloper, and unable to bear up under the hitter's crushing blows, sold his in- 



HIS INFLUENCE AS A POLITICAL WRITER. 



563 



terest in the "Advertiser" and removed to St. Louis, receiving at the hands of his 
successful rival a friendly and courteous valedictorv. The "Advertiser" liii<rcred a 
few years, and then, to quote Mr. Casseday, "expired in the arms of the Rev. W. 
C. Buch, of 'Baptist Hymns' memory." Penn was a native of Kentucky, a large, 
finely proportioned man, of genial temperament and whole-souled, a leader and states- 
man by nature, and a politician by choice. He and Mr. Prentice, despite this bitter 
editorial warfare, were good friends personallv — especially was this the case after the 




BIRTHl'LAt'E OK (iKOUGK J>. FKKNTICK AS IT ST001> IN ISliS. 

former's removal to St. Louis. Mr. Prentice continued to be, nearly to the day of 
his death, the central figure in the journalism of the South and West. 
As his pupil and worthy successor, Henry Watterson, has said: 
"From 1830 to 1861, the influence of Prentice was perhaps greater than the influence 
of any other political writer who ever lived. It was an influence directly positive and 
personal. It owed its origin to the union in his person of gifts which no one else had 
combined before him. He had to build upon an intellect naturally strong and prac- 



564 KEPT KENTUCKY IN THE UNION. 

tical, and this was trained by rigid scholarly culture. * * By turn a statesman, a 
wit, a poet, a man of the world, and always a journalist, he gave the press of his 
country its most brilliant illustration, and has left to the State and to his progeny by 
odds the largest reputation ever achieved by a newspaper writer." 

Prentice's success in keeping Kentucky in the Union was one of his greatest 
achievements, and alone entitles him to a place among the great leaders ; for unques- 
tionably the influence of the "Journal" was all that kept the State from being over- 
whelmed in the whirl-wind of secession that carried awav all of her neio-hbor States 
in the South. Through the long and bitter struggle that followed, his devotion to 
the Union was unfaltering. His two sons entered the Southern army, and many of 
his life long friends were arrayed on the same side ; but during the war, however his 
heart was wrung by this desertion of children and friends, and by unworthy charges 
that he had sold his pen to the Government for money, he never wavered in his fealty 
to the Federal cause. The close of the great conflict left him a broken down old man, 
with health and spirits gone ; many of his old friends were dead or estranged. In 
1868, the wife of his youth, to whom he was tenderly attached, died, and very soon 
after her decease, he gave up his control of the "Journal," which passed into j^ounger 
hands ; he, however, continued on its editorial staff at a liberal salary up to the time 
of his death. He died on the 22d of January, 1870, at the country residence of his 
son, Col. Clarence J. Prentice, on the Ohio river, ten miles below Louisville, whither 
he had gone for the Christmas holidays. Throughout Prentice's editorial career, the 
"Journal" was not only the ablest political sheet of the West, but the highest authority 
in literary matters as well. ^ Prentice's wide culture, genial nature, and prime poetic 
vein made him sensitive and sympathetic toward all young writers wdio exhibited 
talent and the wish to improve; few literary men have so generously acted the part 
of foster-father as did he. Many struggling men and women of genius owed 
their entrance into literature to his cordial recognition and hearty aid extended 
through the columns of the "Journal;" while its daily and weekly visits to thousands 
of log-cabins throughout the broad valley caused light to shine in many a dark place, 
and cultivated the appreciation of what was highest and best in literature. 



CHAPTER XXL 



THE BENCH AND THE BAR. 



EARLY COURTS OF JUSTICE. A SENTENCE OF DEATH WHICH WAS NOT EXECUTED. JUDGE PICK- 

KNS. UPHOLDING THE DIGNITY OF TIIK COURT. ELDER HAKDSCRABBLE. KURWELL 

SHINES. THE MAJOR. AN EXTRAORDINARY COURT SCENE. THE SHERIFF AND THE 

PEDDLER. 

THE administration of justice in the early days of the West was of the rudest 
and most impromptu character. Judges and lawyers rode "the circuit" on 
horseback. Sometimes, on arriving at the county seat, the judge found the court- 
house unfinished and an extempore affair was at once built in the forest, of boughs 
and poles, and in this leafy temple criminals were put to plead, tried, convicted and 
sentenced. If the prisoner was on trial for a capital offense, he was usually secured 
by a chain around his leg, which was then fastened to a tree. 

The surveyors of that time were well educated and skillful, and numbered among 
them many of the foremost men of the Mother Commonwealth Virginia and of her 
daughter. By law they must be certified as "able" by the President and Professors 
of William and INIary College. One-sixth part of their fees inured to the benefit of 
that college. The difficulties of their Avork were great, and the dangers constant. 
Only a few years passed before a host of land quarrels embroiled the entire popu- 
lation in Kentucky and Tennessee, thus giving employment to lawyers of the highest 
order, educating and taxing their finest powers. 

The circuits at first covered vast stretches of country. Governor Reynolds tells us 
that when he first came to Illinois, in 1800, it was a part of Indiana Territory, and 
but two counties had been organized for the entire State — St. Clair and Randolph. 
The county seats were Kaskaskia and Cahokia, A Court of Common Pleas was or- 
ganized, and held at each county seat four times a year. The judges, though men of 
sound judgment, knew but little law, being on a par in that respect with the best of 
modern justices of the peace. There was little judicial state and dignity. Reyn- 
olds records that at the opening of his first court in Covington, Washington county, 
Illinois, in the spring of 1819, the Sheriff, a comrade in the border wars, opened 

565 



566 A SENTENCE OF DEATH NOT EXECUTED. 

court in this familiar manner : Seated astride of a bench in the court-house, he pro- 
claimed, "The court is now opened; our John is on the bench." A little later, in 
Union county, the deputy sheriff opened the court by saying, "O yes," three times, 
and then proclaimed, "The Honorable Judge is now opened," mistaking the judge 
for the court. Governor Ford, of Illinois, writing of a somewhat later period, re- 
marked that the judges were gentlemen of considerable learning and much good 
sense. "In general, they were averse to deciding questions of law if they could 
avoid doing so. They did not like the responsibility of offending one or the other 
of the parties, and preferred to submit everything they could to be decided by the 
jury. They never gave instructions to a jury unless they were expressly called for, 
and then only upon the points of law raised by counsel in asking for them. They 
never commented upon the evidence, nor undertook to show the jury what infer- 
ences and presumptions might be drawn from it, for which reason they delivered 
their instructions hypothetically, thus : 'If the jury believe from the evidence that 
such a matter is proved, then the law is so and so.' This was a clear departure 
from the practice of the judges of England and most of the United States, but 
suited the circumstances of the country. 

"I knew one judge, who, when asked for instructions, would rub his head and 
the side of his face with his hand, as if perplexed, and say to the lawyers, 'Why, 
gentlemen, the jury understand the case, they need no instructions; no doubt they 
will do justice between the parties.' This same judge presided at a court in which a 
man named Green was convicted of murder, and it became his unpleasant duty to 
pronounce sentence of death upon him. Asking Mr. Green to stand up before pass- 
ing sentence, the judge requested him to take notice and be particular to let his 
friends on Big Muddy Creek know that it was the jury that had found him guilty, 
and the law that prescribed the sentence, and not the judge himself; then proceeded, 
'And now, Mr. Green, the law requires me to say, that on four weeks from to-day, 
between the hours of nine and twelve in the morning, the sheriff of this county shall 
cause you to be hung b}^ the neck until you are dead, dead, dead ; and may the Lord 
have mercy on your soul.' The prisoner had been standing with folded arms look- 
ing at the judge, with a mixture of indifference and contempt, and answered, 'Jedge, 
you kin go to thunder, thunder, thunder; I shan't be thar on that day.' And he 
was not, for by the help of his friends on Big Muddy he broke jail and escaped." 

To fully appreciate the significance of the judge's course, the reader should be in- 
formed that he had at this time an eye on the governorship, and that Mr. Green's 
friends on Big Muddy were numerous, and influenced many votes. This was, per- 



A JUDGE WHO WAS AN EXPERT IN PHRENOLOGY. 567 

haps, an extreme case. Other judges went as far in the other direction, and gave 
juries such positive instructions that they were accused of partiality. There is a story 
of one jury thus instructed, which failed to agree and filed back into court. The 
court asked as to the nature of the difficulty. "Wal, Jedge," said the foreman, 
"this 'ere is the difficulty. The jury want to know whether what you told us when 
we first went out was raly the law, or whether it was only just your notion." His 
Honor, of course, informed them that it was really the law, and they found a verdict 
accordingly. The evil became so marked that the Legislature passed a law requiring 
all instructions to juries to be given in writing, and that there should be no excep- 
tions or explanations but such as should be given in wTitin^ also. 

The period between 1820 and 1830, in Illinois, produced many eminent lawyers. 
Such men as Cook, M'Lean, Starr, Mears, Blackwell, Kane, Lockwood Mills, Chief 
Justice Thomas McReynolds, w^ould have taken respectable rank as lawyers at any 
bar of the United States. 

The litigation of the early times in Illinois was generally petty in character, com- 
prising small appeal cases, actions of trespass, trover, replevin, slander, indictments 
for assault and battery, affrays, riots, illegal sale of liquor, and card-playing. There 
w^as now and then an indictment for murder or larceny, and other felonies; but in all 
cases of murder arising from heat of blood or in fight, it was impossible to convict. 
The juries were willing enough to convict an assassin, or one who murdered by tak- 
ing dishonorable advantajre, but otherwise if there was a conflict and nothinor unfair 
about it. This same feeling prevailed throughout Kentucky, Tennessee, and the 
South, and was the secret of the great success of Clay, Rowan, Ben. Hardin, Prentiss, 
and Grundy, in defending persons accused of murder. This is strikingly shown in 
the case of Judge Ezekiel Pickens, who served long and honorably on the bench of 
Alabama. He had many eccentricities and odd sayings, and more good stories are 
told of him in Alabama to-day than of any other man. He was a firm believer in 
phrenology, and would wait until a large batch of prisoners had been convicted, and 
then call them up and sentence them, first reading phrenological and ethical lectures 
to them. At one court, Joshua Spear was the first name on his Honor's list, and he 
began, "You are found guilty of murder, and justly. I can see it in the shape of 
your head, the phrenological bumps, and the diabolical expression of your coun- 
tenance." Here the man addressed made a motion to speak, but the judge sternly 
repressed him, saying, "Be quiet, and listen to the Court," and proceeded with his 
exposition of the man's dreadful character, as manifested in his physiognomy. At 
length the victim could stand it no longer, and in agony shouted out, "Your Honor, 



56S MAINTAINING THE DIGNITY OF THE COURT. 

I'm not the prisoner, but one of the sheriff's officers." The judge quietly answered, 
"Well, if you are, I must still stick to it; according to phrenology and physiognomy 
you would commit any crime you had a chance to." An able lawyer was once mak- 
ing a plea on behalf of a prisoner, and said, "Your Honor will bear in mind it is a 
principle of the law that a man must be held innocent until he is proved guilty." 
"But he is guilty," shouted the judge. The attorney proceeded, "Your Honor 
will also remember another principle of the law; "It is better that ninety-nine guilty 
persons should escape than that one innocent man should suffer unjustly." "But 
the ninety-nine have escaped," thundered the judge, "and this fellow has got to 
suffer." 

Judge Pickens was often disgusted by the failure of juries to convict in cases of 
murder. One day he was particularly outraged by the verdict of not guilty, brought 
in by a jury in the case of a man who had cut another to pieces with a bowie-knife. 
The next prisoner tried was an Irishman, charged with horse stealing. The jury 
promptly found him guilty. In pronouncing sentence, his Honor said, "It is evident 
that you are a stranger in this country, and don't know our ways. If you had killed 
a man, the jury would have brought you in not guilty, and you would have gone scot 
free, as the prisoner before you has done. But you have stolen a horse, which the 
gentlemen of the jury seem to think more valuable than a human life. The extreme 
penalty of the law for your offense is twenty years in State prison, but as you are a 
stranger, I shall not give 3'ou the full term, and should be disposed to be even more 
lenient, if, when you have served out your term, you would kill two or more mem- 
bers of the late jury. I will give you only nineteen years and six months." 

Such men as Judge Pickens, honest, independent, perfectly fearless, were needed 
in a new country. 

Here are some of the characteristic humors of the western bar: 

Jeptha Hardin, a half-brother of the renowned Ben Hardin, of Kentucky, was 
judge of an inferior court at Shawneetown, Illinois. A celebrated lawyer, Jefferson 
Gatewood, was disgruntled by a ruling of his Honor, and remarked, sotto voce, to a 
member of the bar sitting near: "I shall appeal the case from this little court, and 
get justice in a higher tribunal." The judge overheard him, and thundered, "What's 
that you say, Jeffy Gatewood; a little court? I'll teach you not to speak disrespect- 
fully of this court. Clerk, enter a fine of fifty dollars against the counsel. A little 
court, Jeff}^? You'll find it big enough before you get through with it." 

A distinguished lawyer of Illinois sat boozy by the bar-room fire, when a pompous 
brother of the green bag came in and patronizingly laid his hand on his bald pate, 



THE EFFECT OF "PEACII AND HONEY." 569 

saying, "You've quite a prairie here, Brother Mills." "Yes," answered the other, 
"the difference between us is, my bare place is on the outside of my head, while yours 
is on the inside." The Kentucky lawyer Avho came into court with his case entirely 
unprepared, showed genuine mother wit in the expedient adopted to secure a post- 
ponement. He told the judge that his witnesses had all left in order to see the 
elephant swim the river. His Honor replied that he had heard that a circus was to 
exhibit in the town that day, and asked if they would make their elephant swim the 
river. On being answered in the affirmative, he said he did not blame witnesses for 
leaving court to see such a sight, and remarking that the court did not mean to lose 
the opportunity either, he ordered the sheriff to adjourn the court until next morn- 
ing. The judge spent the day on the river bank, waiting for the crowds and the 
elephant — which never came — while the shrewd lawyer hurried round, secured his 
witnesses and papers, and came into court next morning fully prepared. That law- 
yer, also, whose client was coming up to be sentenced for drunkenness before a judge 
of one of the inferior courts, who had a weakness for that seductive beverage, peach 
and honey, and a great antipathy to whiskey and whiskey-drinkers. "When the 
judge asks you what you got drunk on," said the la\vyer, "tell him on peach 
and honey." The culprit did as directed. Instantly the stern judicial features 
relaxed, and regarding the culprit leniently, he said, "Ah, sir, peach and honey, eh. 
That's a gentlemanly drink, sir; the court sympathizes with you, sir, and does not 
regard your fault as serious. Mr. Clerk, enter a fine of one dollar against this gentle- 
man, and discharge him on payment of costs." This, notwithstanding the fact that 
a j)risoner just preceding him, who had got drunk on whiskey, was fined fifty dollars, 
and sent to jail for sixty days. 

For power of characterization, a western attorney's exposition of perjury is unex- 
celled. "It's Avhen a feller's too smarter too scary to swear to a lie, and so gets 
another man to do it for him — one of your mean, dirty, snivellin', little-minded 
fellers. Why, a whole regiment of such souls could hold a jubilee in the middle of a 
mustard seed, and never hear of one another." 

"For the best type of frontier lawyer, I'd stand up Jack Winch, of Pocono," said a 
western lawyer to a group of kindred spirits. "Jack in one day appeared as counsel 
for a man who had committed a most dreadful murder, and so handled the witnesses 
and plead so eloquently that he moved jury and audience to tears, and secured a ver- 
dict of acquittal. Getting out of the court room, he had to fight the murdered man's 
friends, and whipped them. Before he had fairly got his wind, he was called in 



570 "THE LAWYERS NEXT THE FIRE." 

haste to attend a funeral, and did it right well, reading the burial service with much 
effect, after delivering an appropriate and impressive address. He was then called 
upon to marry a couple, which he did in the most graceful manner; and immediately 
after to baptize some children, which was also done in due form. In the afternoon 
he made a rousing political speech, and assailing his opponents v/ith great force, was 
obliged to take a hand in several rough-and-tumble fights. Immediately after, in 
the evening. Jack closed the labors of a busy day by preaching a powerful sermon, 
calling for mourners, and went to bed happy over the conversion of a score of 
sinners." 

A crowd of lawj^ers were gathered, on a cold wintry night, in the common room of 
a western tavern, fronting a great fire of blazing logs. They were cracking jokes, 
and in hilarious mood. A backwoodsman entered, in a shabby suit of home-spun 
hardly thick enough for the weather. The legal semi-circle shut him out from the 
generous warmth. As he stood shivering, a sprig of the law cried out, "See, gentle- 
men , here's a fellow just from h — . ' ' The man stood the battery of glances unmoved. 
Another wit cried out, "How is it down there?" "Pretty much the same as here," 
answered the half-frozen native, "the lawyers next the fire." 

It was a case of capital crime, and counsel for the defense thus addressed the jury : 
"The Bible says, thou shalt not kill. Now, do you know, gentlemen, that if you go 
to hang my client, the prisoner at the bar, that you commit nmrdcr? You do, and no 
mistake; for murder is murder whether it is committed by twelve men in what is called 
a box, or by a humble individual like myself. 'Sposing my client had killed a man — 
I say, 'sposing he had — is that any reason w^hy you should kill a man — tw^elve of you 
on one? No, gentlemen of the jury, you may bring the prisoner at the bar, my client, 
in guilty; the hangman may do his duty, but will that exonerate you? No such 
thing. You will all, individually and collectively, you will all be murderers." This 
ingenious argument had its effect. The jury refused to find the man guilt}^, but 
compounded with their consciences by their verdict, "Not guilty if he'll quit the 
State." 

In the good old days there lived, in Michigan, one Elder Silas Hardscrabble, a 
Hard-shell Baptist preacher, two of whose leading church members, unfortunately, 
fell out, and went to law about the bull of Smith, which would trespass on the fields of 
Jones. The Elder was called as a witness, and was in a tight box, lest he should offend 
one or the other of the contestants. "Elder Hardscrabble," said Smith's lawyer, 
"please state to the court your general knowledge of my client's bull, as to his char- 



CURWELL SHINES AS A WITNESS. 571 

actcr and general behavior in the neighborhood." "Why," said the Ekler, "I know 
Brother Smith's bull mighty well. I generally meets him in Brother Jones' lane as I 
goes to my appointment in Kettle Creek chureh. lie allers seems mighty humble; 
ho holds his head down, and goes moanin' and moanin' along, and I should say, he 
seems to be a mighty pious kind of a bull." 

The Court: "No further testimony is needed in this suit. Mr. Clerk, enter judg- 
ment for defendant, Avith cost of suit." Here is another style of witness: 

"Burwell Shines," called the clerk, "come to the book and be sworn." He ad- 
vanced with deliberate gravity to the stand. He was a picture. There he stood, his 
large bell-cTowned hat with naidvocn colored nap an inch long in his hand, which hat 
he carefully handed over to the clerk to hold, until he should get through with his 
testimony. He wore a blue, single-breasted coat, with new brass buttons; a vest of 
bluish calico ; nankeen pants that struggled to make both ends meet but failed by a 
few inches in the legs, yet made up for it by fitting a little tighter than the skin 
everywhere else; his head stood upon a shirt collar that held it up by the ears, and a 
cravat something smaller than a table-c^loth bandaged his throat. His face was nar- 
row, long and grave. Gravity and decorum marked every lineament. The wit of 
Hudibras could not have moved a muscle of his face. The solicitor told him to tell 
about the difhculty in hand. He gazed round on the court — then on the bar — then 
on the jury — then on the crowd — addressing each respectively as he turned. "May it 
please your Honor — gentlemen of the jury — audience. Before proceeding to give 
my testimonial observations, I must premise that I am a member of the Methodist 
Episcopal — otherwise called Wesleyan — persuasion of Christian individuals. One 
bright Sabbath morning, in May, the 15th of the month, the i)ast year, while the 
birds were singing their matutinal songs from the trees, I sallied forth from the 
dormitor}^ of my seminary to enjoy the reflections so well suited to that auspicious 
occasion. I had not proceeded far, before my ears were accosted by certain bac- 
chanalian sounds of revelry, which proceedcnl from one of those haunts of vicious 
depravity located at the cross-roads near the place of my abode, and fashionably de- 
nominated a doggerv. No sooner had I passed beyond the precints of this diabolical 
rendezvous of rioting debauchees, than I heard behind me the sounds of approaching 
footsteps, as if in pursuit. Having heard previouslv sundry menaces which had been 
made by these preposterous and incarnadine individuals of hell now on trial in pros- 
pect of condign punishment, fulminated against the longer continuance of my cor- 
poreal salubrity, for no better reason than that I had reprobated their criminal orgies, 



572 HIS ELOQUENT PLEA \VON HIS CASE. 

and not wishing my reflections disturbed, I hurried my steps with a gradually acceler- 
ated motion. Hearing, however, their continued advance, and the repeated shout- 
ings articulating the murderous accents, 'Kill him, kill shad-belly, with his praying 
clothes on' (which was a profane designation of myself and my religious profes- 
sion), and casting my head over my left shoulder in a manner somehow reluctantly 
thus (throwing his head to one side), and perceiving their near approach, I aug- 
mented my speed into what might be denominated a gentle lope, and subsequently 
augmented the same into a gentle dog-trot. But all would not do. Gentlemen, the 
destroyer came. As I reached the fence, and was about propelling my body over the 
same, felicitating myself on my prospect of escape from my remorseless pursuers, 
they arrived, and James William Jones, called by nick-name Buck Jones, that red- 
headed character now at the bar of this honorable court, seized a fence rail, grasped 
it by both hands, and, standing on tip-toe, hurled the same with mighty force against 
my cerebellum, which blow felled me to the earth. Straightway, like ignoble curs 
upon a disabled lion, these bandit ruffians and incarnadine assassins leaped upon me, 
some 3^elling, some bruising, some gouging — everything hy turns and nothing long, 
as the poet hath it, and one of them — which one unknown to me, having no eyes 
behind — inflicted with his teeth a grievous wound upon my person — where, I need not 
specify. At length, w^hen thus prostrate on the ground, one of those bright ideas 
common to men of genius struck me. I forthwith sprang to my feet, drew forth 
my cutto, circulated the same with much vivacity among the several and respective 
corporeal systems, and every time I circulated the same, I felt their iron grasp relax. 
As cowardly recreants, even to their own guilty friendships, two of these miscreants, 
though but slightly perforated by my cutto, fled, leaving the other two, whom I had 
disabled by the vigor and energy of my incisions, prostrate and in my power. These 
lustily called for quarter, shouting out 'enough,' or, in their barbarous dialect, 'nuff,' 
which quarter I magnanimously extended them as unworthy of my farther ven- 
geance, and fit only as subject of penal infliction at the hands of the offended laws of 
their country; to which laws I do now consign them; hoping such mercy for them 
as these crimes will permit; which, in my judgment (having read the code) is not 
much. This is my statement on oath, fully and truly, nothing extenuating, and 
naught setting down in malice, and if I have omitted anything in form or substance, 
I stand ready to supply the omission; and if I have stated anything amiss, I will 
cheerfully correct the same, limiting the averment with appropriate modification, pro- 
visions and substitutions." After this eloquent plea, the reader will be glad to know 
that Mr, Shines won his case. 



THE MAJOR MAKES A STATEMENT. .573 

This story is anotlier delineation of character: 

"His Honor, the Mayor, held court Saturday night on two several charges of as- 
sault and battery, to which the Major was respondent. 'Do you plead guilty to the 

assault upon Eev. Mr. Williams?' asked the Mayor. 'I do, that is to say, ' 'Then 

I fine you five dollars,' said His Honor. 'That is to say,' continued the Major, 'I 
plead guilty, but if there is any way to get off from the fine, I should very nuich 
like to do it.' 'Doubtless,' dryly observed the Mayor. 'I wish to make a state- 
ment, or, as you may say, a def-m-a-a- f ew remarks.' The Court nodded permis- 
sion. 'You see Williams came up to me and made a few remarks to me, and I said, 
'Pull off your hat, you beggarly rascal, when you speak to me,' said the Major, 
throwing himself into a military attitude. 'That's enough,' said the Mayor, 'ten 
dollars and costs.' The Major bowed gracefully. Taking up the second charge, the 
Mayor asked if he would plead guilty again. 'Not I,' exclaimed the Major. 'I will 
make a statement, however, regarding, or in respect to the manner of the second 
fight. I was in the person's store who fought me, searching for one of the silver 
eyes that dropped from my walking cane in the previous fight, when that person or- 
dered me out.' 'Sir,' said I, 'you must talk softly, very softly, when you address 
me, sir.' Upon this, that person struck me with a skillet — an iron skillet — in the 
face;' here the Major pointed to his nose which had a long ruby streak upon it, and 
then continued : 'I staggered and fell as I returned the blow Avith my cane, and the 
whole crowd jumped on me and beat me till they were pulled off. They didn't AVhip 
me, though; that can't be done.' A witness was then called, who testified that no 
one interfered with the combatants. The Major cross-examined him. 'Didn't they 
tell that man to whip me well, or words to that effect?' 'Yes.' 'And didn't he — 
that is — ' 'Didn't he do it, you mean to ask? Yes, he did it thoroughly.' The 
Major now pulled up ; he had been deceived ; his imagination had led him into error, 
had transformed an individual of one hundred pounds into a crowd." 

Court days in early times were great occasions, vying, in importance and interest, 
with training days and horse races. Nearly all the male population turned out and 
followed the course of the trials— the indictment, the pleadings of the lawyer, the 
judo-e's charge, the bringing in of the verdict— with breathless attention. And when 
one remembers the wit, eloquence, logic, and intellectual force displayed in these 
forensic efforts, it must be confessed that the court was no mean school-master, 
while its benefits were shared by all. Some sketches of these court scenes, given by 
the actors in them, are quite within the scope of our chapter, which aims to present 
a picture of the times. 



574 WHERE WAS CONTENTMENT CARTER? 

The first is of the ultra pioneer period, the narrator being an educated gentleman 
from New England, who accompanied Judge E. on his circuit through the Kentucky 
backwoods. Arriving at the county seat, they found that the court-house had been 
used as a barn during harvest, and spent the first day — the visitor in hunting, and 
the judge in aiding the settlers to erect and furnish a large log building in which 
justice was to abide for a time. In the evening they gathered around the ample fire- 
place. The judge had just rolled in a large piece of timber as a back log, and was 
sittino- with his feet on the huge stone chimney jamb, with chair tilted at a com- 
fortable angle, thinking out some knotty law point, when they were startled by the 
tramp of many feet, and a confused babel of voices. The judge opened the door, 
and there stood nearly half the village. The cause of the tumult was soon ex- 
plained. Contentment Carter, a maiden of the town, was missing; her lover, 
Dennis O'Shaughnessy, with whom she had quarreled a day or two before, was also 
missing, and it was surmised he had kidnapped her. The judge, without further 
palaver, organized a posse for the rescue. Setting out before daybreak, they cap- 
tured Dennis after a hard ride, without the maid, however, and hurried with him to 
the nearest settlement. "As soon as we arrived," continues the narrator, "poles 
were cut, branches lopped, and in half an hour we sat w^ithin an extempore court- 
house of boughs and logs, such as Kentucky trials were often held in. The judge 
placed one log above another for a bench, rested his rifle on his knees, and the day 
havino- become warm, stripped to his shirt sleeves, and used his jeans hunting-shirt 
for a cushion. The justice, as clerk ^^ro-Zem., sat below with an old chair-bottom and 
a bit of charcoal to keep the records. The prisoner made fast by an ox-chain to the 
tree which was the main prop to our shant}^, the rest of us lay at our ease on the 
o-reensward which formed our floor. The complaint was soon made, and the usual 
questions of guilty or not guilty put, but not a word could be drawn from Dennis. 
All the blood of old Ireland and Kentucky united was boiling in him. He made no 
defense, and the judge bade the clerk enter the crime confessed in open court by 
willful silence and ordered an adjournment, directing the prisoner to be committed 
to the custody of two men, after which the august assembly broke up." 
It was a western witness who gave the following vivid verbal definition : 
"Come, witness," said the judge, "what had Mr. Smithers to do with the row?" 
"Well, I've just told you they clinched and paired off, but Smithers, he jest kept 
sloshin' about." "That isn't legal evidence in the way j^ou put it," answered the 
judo-e. "Tell me what you mean by sloshin' about." "I'll try," answered the wit- 



AN EXTRAORDINARY COURT SCENE. 575 

ness. -You see Brewer and Sjkes clinched and font. That's in a legal form, ain't 
it?" "Oh, jes," said the judge, -go on." -Abney and Blackman then pitched 
into one another, and Blackman bit off apiece of Abney's lip; that's legal, too, ain't 
it?" "Proceed," said his Honor. "Simpson and Bill Stones and Murry. was all 
together on the ground, a bitin', gougin' and kickin' ; that's legal too, hain't it?" 
"Very, but go on." "And Smithers made it his business to walk back'ards and 
for'ards through the crowd with a club in his hand, and knock down every loose man 
in the crowd. That's what I call sloshin" about.'' 

Here is a picture of another extraordinary court scene, given by my old friend, 
Eeuben Davis, of Mississippi : 

A case had been called, the State vs. Dick, on charge of larceny. Joel M. Acker 
was making a defense, and Francis M. Eogers, in the prosecution. As I entered the 
bar, Acker was seized with a chill so violent as to disable hfm from proceedino- with 
the defense, and he requested me to defend for him. To this I consented, of course. 
The case proceeded. Under our statute, the State could challenge two jurors and the 
defendant four. Eogers had objected to two jurors, and his challenges were ex- 
hausted. Another juror w^as called, and Eogers said, with some eagerness of man- 
ner, "I accept." I know that such a manner was sometimes adopted to gain favor 
with the juror, and I said, "Eogers, why do you say that? You are bound to ac- 
cept." He replied, "No, I have four challenges." I insisted that he was entitled 
to but two, and when the judge sustained Eogers, I turned to the statute, and read 
to the court that it was but two, saying, "You see, sir, I am right." The judge at 
once ordered me to take my seat, which I did, though I felt both surprise and 
chagrin. The court then ordered Eogers to sit down. He replied that it was his 
riffht to stand, and he meant to do so. The court then ordered the clerk to enter a 
fine against me. I was thunder-struck. Up to this moment I had been so surprised 
by the unexpected attitude of the court, coming as it did, after weeks of the most 
pleasant and friendly intercourse, and with no provocation that I was aware of, that 
I felt no emotion stronger than annoyance. My patience now gave way, and I felt my- 
self a perfect blaze of sudden fury. I had in my pocket a verj^ fine knife, with a 
lono-, thin blade. As I sprang to my feet, I drew out this knife, opened it, and threw 
it point foremost into the bar, looking steadily at the judge all the while. My 
object was to induce the judge to order me to jail, and then to attack him on the 
bench. The knife vibrated, and the weight of the handle broke the blade near the 
middle. General S. J. Gholson and several others ran upon the bench beside the 



576 THE judge's claw-hammer vs. the lawyer's knife. 

judge, ordered the sheriff to adjourn the court uutil one o'clock, and carried the 
judge out of the court room, while a number of persons seized me. This was 
a most prudent and timely action on the part of Gholson. The situation was full 
of peril. Many would have felt it a duty to stand by the judge, and see that he re- 
ceived no harm, while I had personal friends who would have stopped at nothing in 
my defense. This clanger could have been averted only in one way, and Gholson is 
entitled to great credit for his quickness in seing the remedy, and his promptitude in 
applying it. Judge Howry was a man of unquestioned courage and firmness, and 
would undoubtedly have taken the only step left to him by ordering me to jail, if 
Gholson had not relieved him from the dilemma. I had taken the aggressive step, 
and could not have hesitated to pursue it. My friends would have sustained me, 
and the consequence would have been most disastrous, but for Gholson's dexterous 
management. Judge Howry being withdrawn, prudent men among my personal 
friends condemned my action, and appealed to me to let the matter stop. I agreed 
to this, and went to my hotel, as the judge had gone to his. One of my partners, 
Mr. Goodwin, was staying in the same house with Judge Howr3\ I went to his 
room, and after an hour's consultation with him about our cases, I stepped out of 
his door, intending to pass straight to my hotel. As I closed the door, I saw Judge 
Howry enter the hall and come towards the place where I was standing. I awaited 
his approach, and when close to me, I asked him if he intended by his fine to insult 
me. He said, "No." I then said that I had been guilty of no offense to justify 
such an indignity, and requested some explanation. He replied, "I do not, sir, ex- 
plain my official conduct to any man." In a moment I had slapped him in the face 
with my open hand. 

By some accident a claw-hammer had been left upon the floor near by. He seized 
this, and struck at me violently, while I got from my pocket the broken knife and 
opened it. The blow of his hammer fell upon my head, cutting through my hat, and 
several files of papers, to the bone of my head. The concussion produced exactly 
the same condition I had been in the night before — the same brilliant light, and the 
same rigidity of body. Instead of falling, I stood like a statue. As the condition 
flashed off, I made another stroke at his jugular with the corner of my knife-blade. 
This blow fell upon his jaw. I seized him with my left hand by the collar of his 
coat, and pushed my head into his face. He struck me again with his hammer, 
breaking and depressing the outer plate of my skull-bone, without, however, invad- 
ing the inner plate. Again I fell into the condition of the previous night, but not 



^'thimble-rigging" in court. 577 

until I had inflicted three more cuts upon his jaw. As we were pulled apart, ho gave 
me the third blow, producing again the condition mentioned. I went to my room, 
and sent the judge a message, warning him not to leave his room unarmed, as I should 
attack him upon sight. My friends gathered around me, urging that the trouble was 
useless, and should now be stopped. This I could not bring myself to consider, until, 
after a while. Captain William P. Rogers came in and whispered in my ear: "Re- 
member what you told me this morning." 

In a moment the whole thing recurred to me, although forgotten in the excitement 
of the past few hours. I realized that this was the danger against which I had been 
so singularly forewarned, and at once gave myself up into the hands of my friends, 
and allowed them to arrang-e it for me. 

The court met again that evening. I had put on a fur cap, with the back part be- 
fore to conceal my wounds, and the judge wore his overcoat, with the collar well 
drawn up to hide the tokens of combat on his person, I proposed the arrangement 
of a demurrer. The judge objected, and said: "We will go to the jury." That 
evening Judge Adams returned, and relieved us from our unpleasant predicament 
by terminating the exchange, and allowing Judge Howry to leave next morning for 
Oxford." 

In the early days of the West, when justice was dispensed after a free-and-easy 
fashion in log-cabin court-houses, a case was on trial, in which the plaintiff sought 
to avoid payment of a gambling debt, on the ground that the money had been won 
by "thimble-rigging." His counsel, who was an expert in the game, was giving an 
illustration of its operation to his Honor and the jury. "Then, may it please the 
court, the defendant, placing the cups on his knee, fhus, began shifting them so, of- 
fering to bet that my client could not tell under which cuj) was the 'little joker' — 
meaning, thereby, may it please the court, this ball — with the intention of defraud- 
ing my client of the sum thus wagered. For instance, when I raise the cup so, your 
Honor supposes that you see the ball." ''Sujypose I see!" interrupted the judge, 
who had closely watched the performance, and was sure that he had detected the 
ball, as one of the cups w^as accidentally raised; "why, any fool can see wdiere it is, 
and bet on it and be sure to win. There ain't no defraudin' tkar." "Perhaps your 
Honor would like to go a V. on it' ' insinuated the counsel. "Go a Y. ! Yes, and double 
it too, and here's the rhino. It's under the middle cup." "I'll go a Y. on that," said 
the foreman of the jury. "And I, and I," joined in the jury one after another, until 
each one had invested his pile. "Up!" said his Honor. "Up," it was, but the "little 
37 



578 THE SHERIFI' ANO THE l>EDt)LER. 

joker" had mysteriously disappeared. Judge and jury were enlightened, and found 
no difficulty in bringing in a verdict in favor of the plaintiff, on the ground that "it 
was the biggest kind o' defraudin'." His Honor adjourned the court, and "stood 
for drinks all round," in consideration of being "let off" from his wager. 

In the early days of Illinois they had a statute requiring all jDcddlers to provide 
themselves with a license. A new sheriff in one of the counties, anxious to do his 
whole duty, one day encountered a Yankee driving his wagon filled with all kinds of 
wares. "What have you to sell?" asked the sheriff. "No end of things," answered 
the other, "razors, shoe-blacking, but best of all, here's the 'Balm of Columby' that 
will take the tan off your skin and make the hair grow on your head ; its the best 
thing in creation, and only a dollar a bottle." The sheriff took it, paidhis dollar, and 
said — "Now, I'd thank you to show me your license — I'm sheriff of this county." 
"Here it is," said the Yankee, producing the paper signed and sealed in due form. 
"That's all right," said the sheriff, "but I didn't want your *Balm of Columbia,' I 
wanted to see if you were selling without a license. What will you give me for this 
bottle?" "Twenty-five cents," said the Yankee, handing over the money and receiv- 
ing the bottle on which the sheriff had lost seventy-five cents. "Now," said the ped- 
dler, "I'd like to see your license." "Mine!" answered the other, "I'm sheriff of the 
county, and don't need a license." "We'll see about that," said the Yankee, "I 
guess every body that sells on the road is obliged to have a license, sheriff or no." 
On reaching the county seat he filed a complaint with the magistrate, and the sheriff 
was fined eight dollars and costs for selling without a license. 

The influence of the western bar has been salutary, far-reaching, almost beyond 
expression. Crude and bizarre characters soon wore away, and then giants arose 
whose talents for leadership were exerted for the benefit of the whole country. In 
the long and brilliant roll of western leaders, you will find scarcely one who did not 
enter his career over the threshold of the law. Clay, Jackson, Marshall, Benton, 
Daviess, Corwin, Prentiss, the Breckenridges, Douglass, Lincoln, Davis, Chase, and 
many more who might be named, were all lawyers before they were called to the 
councils of the State. 

"We S3e insurmountable multitudes obeying, in opposition to their strongest pas- 
sions, the restraint of a power which they scarcely perceive, and the crimes of a sin- 
gle individual marked and punished at the distance of half the earth." 



CHAPTER XXII. 



SEARGENT S. PRENTISS AND THE FLUSH TIMES OF MISSISSIPPI. 



SPECULATING MANIA. GAMBLERS. BLACK-LEGS. ROBBERY. NEGRO STEALING. THE 

CREDIT SYSTEM. PECULIAR BANKING METHODS. BARRELS CRAMMED WITH NEWLY SIGNED 

BILLS. LAND LITIGATION. PARENTAGE AND BIRTH OF PRENTISS. EARLY EDUCATION. 

REVENGE FOR A WHIPPING. A JUNIOR AT FIFTEEN. STUDIES LAW IN CINCINNATI. A 

SCHOOL-TEACHER AT NATCHEZ, MISSISSIPPI. ADMITTED TO THE BAR. DUELS WITH GOV. 

FOOTE. PERFECT COURAGE. PERSONAL MAGNETISM. POWER OVER THE HEARTS OF MEN. 

HIS VICTORIES IN COURTS OF LAW. HIS POWER AS A PUBLIC SPEAKER. PERSONAL 

CHARACTERISTICS. 

NO sketch of the great valley could approach completeness were it to leave out the 
picturesque career of the most brilliant orator that has appeared on its stage, 
and the extraordinary state of society in which his part was performed. 

The "Flush Times" of Mississippi, of which I am now to speak: The few brief, 
mad years, whose crazy semblance of prosperity was so sternly compressed into com- 
mon-sense ruin, under the iron will and far-sighted statesmanship of Andrew Jackson, 
were the years just before the great desolation of 1831. During that period, Mis- 
sissippi was the scene of one of those furious culminations of excitement which in 
calmer times seem almost incredible. This was a speculating mania of the same 
class with its older namesake of a century earlier. Law's Mississippi scheme; and 
with the fi-reat South Sea bubble that at the same time crazed the solid brains of 
John Bull in London. 

In the mad heio-ht of its fever, in the frantic carelessness and foolhardiness of its 
haste to be rich, it was, perhaps, exactly similar to these. But peculiarities of time 
and place gave to this late period some distinctive features of a remarkable character. 

The Southwest, especially the towns of Natchez and Vicksburg, was at this time 
the scene of a wild speculative trade in land; which daily became more desirable in 
consequence of the rapidly increasing emigration from the eastward, the growing 
importance of the cotton crop, and the competition for the Indian Territory, then 
newly opened to settlement by the removal of part of the Choctaws across the 

579 



580 



The rush into the wild southwest. 



Mississippi. In these regions gathered an eager, numerous, heterogeneous crowd of 
men, almost all young, almost all single or having left their families at a distant 
home, strangers to each other and to the place, and like the boy chasing through 

thickets and swamps aftei 
the lower end of the rain- 
bow to find a pot of monej' 
under it, were plunging 
blindly down into this dis- 
tant wild Southwest, mad 
for monej' ; some without 
it, chitching fiercely for it; 
some with a share already in 
possession, but for that 
all the madder after more. 
Down the river, by steam- 
er, flat-boat, keel -boat, and 
broad-horn, came score after 
score of Ncav Englanders, 
to teach school, to prac- 
tice law, to practice physic, 
to serve as clerk or surveyor; 
in short, to begin by any 
employment to earn a little 
money with which the}^ pro- 
posed to buy land. Down 
the river also came the west- 
ern men, to trade, to labor, 
to buy land. Across from 
the eastern tier of Southern 
States came another army : 
youths of generous blood 
and aristocratic lineage, in- 
tending; to become the sen- 
ators and statesmen of the young commonwealth ; capitalists, to lay out new portions 
of the fertile lands in such vast plantations as those that afterwards supported the 
great expenditure of the princely planters of the Yazoo valley, and of Adams county. 




S. S. PRENTISS. 



A MOTLEY CROWD OF HOT-BLOODED YOUNG MEN. 581 

And still another army, and far worse, came too; the army of gamblers, black- 
legs, horse-jockeys, to gather gain by swindling, and, if necessary, by murder. Be- 
sides these troops of strangers, there was ever seething along the river the wild, 
floating population of river-men, and restless troops of backwoods hunters and set- 
tlers, continually passing into and out of these towns, dwelling there a short space, 
and then plunging into the swamps of Louisiana, on their way to Texas or Arkansas. 

And this great motley crowd of hot-blooded young men, urged out into those dis- 
tant scenes at the most reckless period of life, and because they possessed the most 
careless courage, the most unsettled ambition of the fiery youth of a whole fiery na- 
tion, thrown into that hottest furnace of Mammon, were thus not only driven to and 
fro by the fiercest human impulses, but were destitute of the restraints and balances 
which an older society flings upon and around those impulses. They lived in taverns 
and groggeries, for there were few homes. They herded together for sport or com- 
bat, for there were few pure-minded sisters, mothers or wives, to draw them apart 
into the calm sweet health of the family circle. Their minds grew fevered and mad 
in habitude of incessant brutal worldliness ; for, as the proverb of the day had it, 
*'Sunday had not got down the Mississippi River;" and no regular recurrence of 
quiet hours of rest and worship broke in upon their haggard chase after wealth. 
The intervals of exciting business were occupied with still more exciting pleasures, 
with the disgusting orgies of a drunken row, or the infernal enjoyments of the 
gambling-table. 

Amidst this crowd of mingled men, where the coarse ferocity of the river-man and 
the hunter, the slyer but more bloody revengefulness of the gambler, the more 
polished and punctilious, but not less resolute and murderous ways of the duellist, 
found ample scope and verge enough, all crimes stalked abroad almost openly. 
Vicksburg and Natchez, under the hill, were full of murderers. Robbery and negro 
stealing were daily occurrences. Deadly assaults were not worth mentioning, for 
every man wore his weapons of war in readiness to protect himself in a street-fight, 
as much as he did his hat to protect his head from sunshine. Every man drank, 
most men got drunk, unchastity was expected, and was no more disreputable than 
eating, imprecations and oaths were the received figures of speech. 

But it is in vain to seek adequate descriptions of such a state of society. Gen- 
eralities are not pictures; nor could the most vivid word-painting suffice. All the 
hugest evils were rampant, surging to and fro in a freedom of lawless Avill, perfectly 
ideal both for action and for opinion, unrestrained by any influence of custom, law, 
morality, prudence, or religion. 



582 



THE CREDIT SYSTEM. 



The finishing touch to this saturnalia was given by the exaggerated credit system 
wh(>ch accompanied the land speculations of the day, a feature monstrous, and even 
grotesque, in its absurd extravagance. Under this system, money, or what produced 
the usual effects of money, might be had for scarcely more than the asking; so that 
the country was, by a singular duality, a pandemonium of all crimes and passions, and 
a fool's paradise of wealth and indulgence. 

Most fantastic, but still melancholy, are the anecdotes told of those days. For 
purchasing property, it was quite unnecessary to possess money, or even credit — un- 
less it were correct to say that every man had unlimited credit. Did you wish to buy 







VIEW OF THE MISSISSIPPI AT NATCHEZ, 1808. 



a plantation of Brown, you agreed with him for ten thousand dollars, payable in a 
year, and made your note. Then, stepping into the next grog-shop, you found Smith, 
a man of honor and means, and laying the piece of paper before him, you re- 
quested the favor of his indorsement. If he refused, it was an insult, to be wiped out 
only by blood; and if he required security, it was no better. Besides, Smith con- 
stantly asked the like favors, and without any hesitation he indorsed. Then yon 
went to Jones, and Robinson, and they did the same; and returning to Brown, you 
delivered him the magic scroll ; the deed of transfer was executed and recorded, and 
])eh()ld yourself a large landed proprietor. Very likely you sold in a week for fifteen 



PECULIAR BANKING METHODS. 583 

thousand dollars, and thus became worth five thousand dollars actual gains, of which 
your evidence was just such a collection of autographs as you bought with. He 
who bought of you, sold again ; but sooner or later, when the time of payment came 
round, number three cannot pay number two, number two cannot pay you, you can- 
not pay Brown, and down all go like a row of bricks. Nobody has any money; the 
last purchaser has probably run away to Texas with the slaves and live-stock, and the 
plantation itself, which could not be so easily transported, remains empty, either of 
hands or owner, the prey of a band of lawyers who now fly at each other in behalf 
of all the parties to the transaction, and one of whom, probably, in the end becomes 
owner of the land. 

Men not worth a cent went about with pockets full of notes for blank amounts, 
each indorsed by half a dozen of the best men of the neighborhood. Such a fellow 
once took off his hat in a grocery, and out flew fifty such pieces of paper. Men bet- 
ted at gambling-tables the most monstrous sums, filling out such a blank indorsed 
note for each stake. One of the most careful business men of the time forijot that 
his name was on one trifling note for ten thousand dollars ; not because he meant to, 
but because his transactions were so many, and the amount so small. 

The banking capital, the nominal capital, I mean, of course, of the State, which 
was the basis of all this phantom business, instead of being some five millions of dol- 
lars, which would have been abundant, was bloated up to the monstrous total of about 
thirty-five millions. Bank notes were the circulating medium, and were as plentiful 
as leaves in a forest. To obtain the discount, as has been wittily said, the only 
requisite was some attestation that the applicant was in need of money. And another 
statement used to be current, an exaggeration in fact, but not in spirit, namely, that 
on discount day the Union Bank, that gigantic financial phantom of the time, used 
to set some barrels crammed with newly signed bank bills behind the door, and that 
each customer, having complied with the formality of handing his paper across the 
counter, proceeded to grab such quantity of bills from the barrels as would suffice for 
his occasion. 

Here were every-day gambling, horse-racing, swindling, lying, cheating, robbing — 
conceive of a state of society where the governor and half a dozen more of the high- 
est dignitaries of the State became dead drunk together ; where a large proportion 
of the members of the Legislature sat with guns in the lobby ready for a free fight ; 
where a United States commissioner and judge, for withstanding a vast scheme of 
land robbery, was deliberately marked for assassination at three set times, his life 



584 A STATE OF THINGS REQUIRING A DESPERATE REMEDY. 

threatened every hour in the day, and received five challenges in three hours, be- 
sides threats of political and pecuniary ruin, of which the last were punctually ful- 
filled. The whole population of the capital of the State drew out on the public 
square in array in two hostile bodies, all heavily armed, for the express purpose of a 
pitched combat. The Supreme Court of the State, the High Court of Errors and Ap- 
peals, gambled all Saturday night, all Sundaj^, all Sunday night, and on Monday ad- 
journed court for the express purpose of finishing the game, being the whole time 
heavily primed with liquor. Vicksburg passed under the dominion of a band of 
gamblers who assassinated whoever dared to peep or to mutter against them, ruled 
the community with a rod of iron, and, under the despotic enforcement of brute force, 
filled the place with such a stench of blasphemy and hellish crimes, that the land 
vomited them out, the citizens rising with one desperate effort, seizing the wretches, 
whipping, shooting and hanging some of them like dogs, and banishing the rest from 
the State ; and this lawless and ferocious measure was a welcome relief, a joy and a 
rejoicing, giving peace to the neighborhood, cleansing and regenerating the com- 
munity. 

To complete my sketch, one more element must be alluded to; I mean the litiga- 
tion which accompanied this frenzy of phantasmal prosperity and accumulation of 
unsubstantial wealth, and which grew into an unprecedented mass during the tre- 
mendous ruin that followed hard after it. 

The vast variety of proceedings arising from land transactions by individuals, 
partners, companies, agents, and attorneys ; from the preternaturally large average of 
frauds ; from the unimaginable ignorance and carelessness of the officers of justice ; 
from the complication of conflicting forms and precedents in courts, whose judges and 
practitioners had crowded into this promising forum from every State in the Union ; 
from the hideous superabundance of every form of crime and misdemeanor, was un- 
precedented in the records of the quarrelsome and litigious blood of the Anglo- 
American. In one county of Mississippi, with twenty-four hundred voters, twenty- 
five hundred suits were brought at one term of one court. In one county of Alabama, 
nearly five thousand suits were brought in one year, to another population of twenty- 
four hundred. There were counties of Mississippi where suits were brought at the 
rate of from nine to ten thousand a year. 

Into the midst of this furnace, blazing with the wild elements of every human pas- 
sion, there glided silently and obscurely, on the 2d of November, 1827, a youth of low 
stature, but broad-shouldered, deep-chested, and powerfully formed, resolute of 



BIRTH AND EARLY EDUCATION OF PRENTISS. 



585 



countenance, bright and bold of eye, though of modest bearing, and halting as he 
went, on one short and crippled limb whose imperfect strength he aided with a cane. 
He brought letters to a gentleman or two in Natchez, and sought employment as a 
schoolmaster— a business reckoned by the lordly land-owners of the vicinity Avell 
adapted to the supposed ignoble capacities of the Yankee mind. 

Seargent Smith Prentiss, the youth just mentioned, was born at Portland, Maine, 
September 30th, 1808. Descended from that Puritan, Henry Prentiss, who was a 
worthy member of the first church in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1636 ; the son of 
an enterprising and successful New England ship-master, and of a pious and devoted 




EARLY HOME OF S. S. PRENTISS— PORTLAND, MAINE. 

mother; the grandson of a Revolutionary officer of high reputation and weighty 
character; a boyish worshiper under the guidance of Edward Paysou, trained in all 
the steady proprieties of a New England home, taught in all the strict and careful 
discipline of a New England school, the boy grew up to early youth with a promise 
of future eminence already shining forth from his broad, magnificent forehead, his 
happy, affectionate smile, and the witty sayings which ever and anon sprang from his 
lips. His school-days over, he entered Bowdoin College, in due course was grad- 
uated, and for a few months studied law with Judge Josiah Pierce, of Gorham, 
Maine, 



586 A STUDENT OF NATURE. 

A fever in his infancy, from which he barely escaped alive, left him for several 
years without the power to use his legs, and withered one of them so that all his life 
afterwards he halted upon the feeble member, and depended for some years upon 
crutches, and ever after upon a cane. But this illness did not impede the fine phys- 
ical development of the remainder of his frame. 

The boy's mind received impulse, character, and direction — so far as its own vig- 
orous life and majestic forces admitted such outward influences — from many things 
besides mere purposeful teachings. The bold boy heard many an exciting tale of 
wild ocean adventure from his seafaring father, and his naturally deep and strong 
affections were wedded still more indissolubly to his loving mother by the years of 
tireless care and devotion, by which she did much to remove the effects of that fear- 
ful fever of his babyhood. In the few but choice books which formed the little 
library of his intelligent father, the craving intellect of the lad found congenial and 
nutritious food. The Bible he learned to know almost by heart, and so he did that 
other wondrous book, "The Pilgrim's Progress;" and these long series of pictures of 
antique beauty, awful majesty, hearty, healthy sense, and surpassing goodness, were 
even in that early day hung up forever within the chambers of his soul, a never- 
failing treasury, an unfading joy to himself, the perennial ornament of his thoughts 
and discourse. 

As soon as he became able to move with a cane instead of crutches, the vast and 
mysterious book of nature opened to him a study in which he took ever-growing 
pleasure. He wandered with a passionate fondness through woods and fields, often 
enjoying with a keen relish the sports of the gun and of the rod, straying through 
forest and meadow in the quiet, dreamy pleasure which the great trees and the moun- 
tains, the streams, the air, the clouds, the winds and the birds, communicate to the 
soul of him who loves them. 

One trait the boy exhibited, not proper to the industrious sons of New England. 
Manual labor was to him an abomination and a curse. His crippled state was held 
to incapacitate him for most of the tasks of the farm on which his father established 
himself. Even the work which he could do, the homely charioteering of riding the 
horse to plough or harrow, dropping the seed at planting, husking, weeding, and, 
above all, the odoriferous employment of bunching onions, he hated one and all with 
a perfect hatred. Asa biographer says, he "was utterly insensible to the dignity 
of labor." 

The mind of the boy was incessantly and vividly active; he neither demanded nor 
needed any further occupation in the nature of employment, besides the rapid ac- 



REVENGE FOR A WHIPPING. 587 

quirement, the powerful retention, the recombination and reproduction of thought 
and imagination which was the law of his mental being. By this he was to live ; it 
was then and ever after his jo}^ his work, his sustenance, his pride, his strength. 
Rambles in sunny meadows and shady woods were the out-door occupation which 
suited him. Why should he bunch onions? 

In the departments of mental exertion, which were the necessary accompaniments 
or preparations for the future vocation to which he already felt a call instinctive 
and irresistible, no charge of indolence or indifference could be made against the 
crippled boy. Many actions and sayings gave premonitions, sometimes recognized 
even at the moment, of the most prominent qualities of his future character; the 
strong will, the readiness, the unfaltering eloquence, the daring, the wit and sarcasm, 
the fluent quotation, and, better still, the warm and loving heart which made him so 
magnetic a ruler over the souls of men in after-years. It was his own resolute pur- 
pose that enabled him to study for college, for his father had lost money, and felt 
scarcely able to afford it ; but the boy said sturdily, to college he would go, if he had 
to earn the money at shoemaking. Being one of a number of boys who were all 
whipped by an assistant teacher, in order that he might be sure to whip the author 
of some trick, who, as he presumed, was one of this unlucky crew, our little cripple 
reveno-ed himself with a stinging epigram, which was found next morning posted 

about the village, running as follows: 

"Now, Mr. Blank, I must confess, 
You well have proved j-our foolishness, 
By whipping us poor fellows so, 
To find out what we didn't know. 
No doubt you very oft' have read 
What God to Abraham once said, 
That for the righteousness of ten 
He'd save two cities full of men. 
But you contrariwise have done, 
And flogged a dozen to punish one." 

When behind-hand in the boyish oratorical exercises of the school, and at last per- 
emptorily commanded to the duty, he jumped up and convulsed the assembly, rigid, 
old-fashioned, corporal-punishment teacher and all, with a ludicrous original poem. 
His mother jokingly promised him something if he would jump from the roof into 
a snow-drift, and before she knew what he was up to, he crept up and did it, to her 
o-reat fri-ht. When a bridge was swept down the river in a great flood, he crawled 
out totaUy absorbed in the wild splendor of the roaring waters and crashing ice, on 



588 



ENTERS COLLEGE A JUNIOR, AT FIFTEEN. 



a beam that projected over the river, and lay there deaf to all mere human voices, at 
last creeping back just before the beam fell in. When a rustic company had assem- 
bled to gather his grandfather's apples, he mounted a stump, and diverted them with 
a fluent speech half an hour long. Poverty compelled him to curtail his college 
course of its first two years ; and he entered junior, aged only fifteen, and with a 
youthful look, which, with his infirmity, caused the good-Qatured examiner to question 
him almost as tenderly as a baby. But the professor quickly found that no indulgence 
was needed ; the boy stood his examination with coolness and even with playful ease; 




VICKSBURG, MISSISSIPPI. 

and replied to all questions with such certain and triumphant surety of knowledge as 
astonished the experienced questioner, who testified that he recollected no other 
instance of an examination so successful. 

As a student, he did not strive after pre-eminence either in the learning of his 
lessons in that sort of regulated goodness or goodyness so dear to a faculty, or in the 
literary exercises usual and useful among the students themselves, and which often 
furnish the data for predictions of their future. His marvelous mind proceeded 



GRAbliAtES AXD STARTS FOR THE WEST. 589 

under the self -enacted laws of its kind, performing— as if for sport— with no con- 
sciousness of effort, the appointed tasks of the daily lesson or of the occasional debate. 

The profound reasoning and dense logical method of Butler's Analogy, he grasped 
and mastered at one reading, with the facile speed which common men apply to a current 
novel. In common with some other eminent men, he devoted much time to what nniy 
be called the study of belles-lettres and miscellaneous literature. He read largely, 
passing with extraordinary rapidity along the novel or poem, history or essay, inso- 
much that a contemporary asserted that he took two pages at a time, one with each 
eye. With the wondrous gift of genius, this rapid perusal gave opportunity enough 
for his superhuman memory to retain more of the subject than others could have 
kept by the most plodding memorizing. Some few favorite books he read and 
re-read; the Bible, and the Pilgrim's Progress; still, the works of Irving and Cooper, 
of Byron and Scott, afforded him much delight; and, above all, he was a faithful 
student of Shakespeare. 

During his brief studies with judge Pierce, he was much the same. He quickly 
mastered the routine duties of the profession, and showed himself capable of becoming 
an eminent lawyer. 

Before leaving college, he had formed the plan of moving to one of the ncAV States 
of the West; and with a modest confidence in his own powers, he felt certain that 
after a reasonable number of years of servitude in his chosen profession of the law, 
he should be able to accomplish his ardent desire — to come home and live happily in 
Maine, with a competent fortune and a good reputation. 

In those times the West was more a fairj^-land than now. Ohio and the South- 
west were such fields for young men's lively fancies as was the golden land of 
California in the years of its prime. In 1827, Tvhen the steamboat was just becoming 
common on the western Avaters, and while the ancient smaller water-craft still 
accommodated much of the travel, and when the canal-packet, with its maximum of 
three miles and a half per hour, was one of the latest improvements in eastern travel, 
space was a much more imposing category than now ; and fifteen hundred miles was 
a distance to be treated with respect. 

Our student, with good courage, set out, and traveled by Portland, Boston, Prov- 
idence, New York, Albany, Buffalo, and Sandusky, to Cincinnati, where he arrived in 
the end of August, having been about a month on the journey. At Cincinnati he 
quickly made friends ; looked about for employment in teaching, but found none of 
an endurable character; occupied himself in the office of a kind-hearted lawyer who 



590 A SCHOOL-TEACHER AT NATCHEZ, MISSISSIPPI. 

managed to jDut him in the way of earning a little money professionally, and whose 
advice seems to have decided him to try his fortune down the river. He had already 
become disposed to go, from conversing with a gentleman of Natchez ; and borrow- 
ing from his legal friend, Mr. Wright, at the urgent request of the latter, money 
enough to carry him to Natchez, and with a few letters of introduction, he proceeded 
down the river. He first entered the family of Mrs. Martha Dunbar, of Adams 
county, and subsequently that of her niece, Mrs. Shields, near Natchez, as private 
tutor, where he had the use of a good legal and miscellaneous library. Here he 
remained six months, then for nearly a year took charge of a school a few miles 
from Natchez, and then entering the office of Eli & Felix Huston, of Natchez, and 
completing the required legal studies, he was admitted to the bar in June, 1829, and 
began the practice of the law in partnership with them. 

This year and a half of school-teaching was, perhaps, the most unpleasant part 
of Prentiss's life. It is true, that he made of those families warm friends, and en- 
joyed leisure enough to pursue his studies and to partake of a few amusements. 
But he had taken no root in the country, for he still intended to earn some money 
and hasten home with it ; he was oppressed at times beyond measure, by the con- 
sciousness of occupying a low social position ; he was laboring hard at his present voca- 
tion and his intended one, avoided society, and more than once shut himself almost 
out of sight under the devouring misery of a long and violent attack of melancholy. 

He went one day, a little later than he had intended, to return the small sum which 
a merchant of Natchez had loaned him soon after his arrival. The precise man of 
business administered to him a sharp lecture on his unpunctuality, pointing in his 
petty wrath to the debit that had stood so long unbalanced upon his ledger; and the 
friendless, sensitive boy, confused and overwhelmed, could only restrain himself until 
he was alone, before he shed bitter tears of mortification. Years afterwards, how- 
ever, he felt a just emotion of satisfaction for that cruel wound, when the close old 
financier counted him down a single fee of five thousand dollars for the argument 
which secured him the quiet possession of his whole imperiled estate. Nor was this 
the only instance of rude or neglectful treatment by men whose very fortunes in 
after years, it may truly be said, he held in the hollow of his hand — nay, they de- 
pended on the breath of his mouth. 

Prentiss entered into partnership with Gen. Felix Huston, of Natchez, Avith whom 
he had studied, in June, 1829, a week after being admitted to practice. A summary 
of his career, from this point until his leaving Mississippi for New Orleans, in 1845, 



SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER IN MTSSTSSIPPI. 



591 



IS as follows : He acquired a large practice within a jear or two ; in four or five years 
was acknowledged the head of the bar of the State, and thenceforth remained so; 
first entered political life as an opponent of Jackson and Van Buren, in 1835, was 
unsuccessfully a candidate for Congress, in July, 1837, canvassed the State again for 
the fall session, was elected, was refused admission by the House at Washington, for 
part}^ reasons, returned and canvassed the State again, was chosen, and served one 
term, in 1837-8; stood for United States Senator, in 1839, but was beaten; had re- 
tired almost entirely from business in 1837, supposing himself wealthy; but resumed 
it a year or two afterwards, finding himself penniless, and under a tremendous weight 
of security and other debts; married, in 1842; removed to New Orleans, in 1845. 








■Si 



A BAYOU ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 



His first appearance, either to individuals or as a lawyer, was invariably striking. 
Entering a hotel at Natchez, a stranger who sat there, seeing crowds of strangers 
every hour, saw, he says, "a light in his face that he had never seen in any other;" 
asked the landlord who it was; heard that it was a young lawyer just admitted; and 
that was all. He recognized the light, even in that momentary gleam, but he could not 
foresee how bright would be the future splendor, nor that that limping young lawyer 
would one day defend his own life and honor against a desperate assault. 

Prentiss often said that though helplessly diffident before women, he never knew 
what it was to be embarrassed before an audience, however vast; nor did he before 



592 FIRST APPEARANCE At ViCKSBtJRG. 

any court, from a tobacco-chewing, whisky-burnt l^ackwoods justice, up to the Su- 
preme Court of the United States, with Chief Justice Marshall at its head. The 
same imperturbable nerve, and perfect coolness, presence of mind, and resolute 
tenacity of will which carried him through so many perils to person and to fame in 
after years, were shown in his first appearance at the bar. 

It was at a court at Brandon, then a little backwoods town, in 1829 or 1830. The 
fledgeling attorney, a beardless boy in appearance, appeared for his partner, Gen. Hus- 
ton, and when his case was called, was about to argue the demurrer which had been 
entered, when the judge carelessly told him that he did not wish to hear argument, 
having made up his mind on the other side. But the boyish counsel with bland firm- 
ness insisted upon the right to be heard, had permission, made his argument, aston- 
ished both court and bystanders, and convinced the judge, who honorably acknowl- 
edged that he had been wrong, and gave Prentiss his decision. 

Rapid and firm was the boy's ascent to social and professional eminence, and short 
indeed the time he needed to become the delight of every company in which his 
presence could be secured, or into which chance might throw him. And with the 
ease of genius, he accepted his place without assumption or reluctance; becoming 
at once, without awkwardness or fear, the companion and social equal of the most 
aristocratic, not even deigning to remember the brief time before when they had 
scarcely glanced at the obscure school-master. When he came to Vicksburg, in 1831, 
he was already famed at Natchez for eloquence, wit, and joj^ous social attractions. 
His first appearance at the Vicksburg bar was a decisive success. It was to argue 
against a town ordinance quarantining and isolating a hotel infested with small-pox. 
He had neither notice nor preparation, except merely the examination of the Avit- 
nesses, immediately after which he made a two hours' speech sparkling with brilliant 
rhetoric, sharp satire, and strong, close reasoning. The ordinance was repealed at 
once, and Prentiss was acknowledged a powerful advocate. 

In 1834, his practice was probably the largest in the State; and as his irresistible 
power over a jury, and the almost equal weight of his magnificent logic with a court, 
became recognized, he was employed in the most hopeless criminal cases, the heaviest 
real estate business, and was quickly in the receipt of an enormous income, even 
without reckoning the immense sums which he never collected. 

From this time forward, his life was one of constant exertion in legal or political 
labors, or in amusement and dissipation, full of journeys to and fro upon the great 
river, or on horseback up and down the State, and full of fun, adventure, and peril, 
all mingled in the most heterogeneous mass. 



A motit m pRisoK. 



59a 



In this early part of his career, he once fell into a quarrel with an opposing coun- 
sel, which even came to blows, and Prentiss got knocked down. The judge fined 
both parties, and ordered them to jail for twenty-four hours. The other lawyer, 
George C. made many excuses and apologies, and would have avoided the pen- 
alty ; on which Prentiss jumped up, acknowledged the justice of the punishment, 
but intimated in his own droll manner that he desired to make one request to the 
court before going to prison. Leave was granted; and with perfect seriousness, 
and a face so honest and sincere that every hearer was deceived, he said: "May it 
please your Honor, I have nothing to say against the sentence. I was guilty of un- 




A MISSISSIPPI RIVER BOAT. 

intentional disrespect to the Court, and of great want of self-respect. But — but I 
hope your Honor is not going to disgrace me by putting me in the same cell with 

George C. !" Everybody laughed, and the delinquents were confined apart. 

George C. spent his time by himself, but within hearing of the shouts of mirth 

from Prentiss's cell; for the rest of the bar and many citizens spent the night there 
discussing a splendid supper, and kept in a perfect uproar of merriment by the prodigal 
wit and fun of the culprit. A great host escorted him next day to the court-house, 
and no man thought the worse of him for the incident. 
38 



594 TWO DUELS WITH GOVERNOR FOOTE. 

It was in these years that he fought his two duels with Gov. Foote, a man as brave 
as himself. There is no justification for the duelist, but for a man in Prentiss's sit- 
uation there are many excuses. He had his living to earn as a lawyer, and was 
totally dependent upon his social and professional standing. He lived among pro- 
fessed duelists. It was generally supposed that northern men would not fight. 
Had that been the fact with Prentiss, he would have been black-guarded, and kicked 
out of the bar; for there was no lack of lawyers who would gladly have seen such a 
tremendous adversary cast out of the arena, even by such means. His only alterna- 
tives were these : either to leave his chosen home, or to rid himself of fighting by 
proving his own perfectly fearless readiness to fight. 

His duels with Governor Foote, which occurred nearly together, and in the first of 
which Prentiss was wounded, and Foote in the second, were on political grounds, 
and were ordinary duels, requiring a word, and no more, except for an incident 
connected with the second one, which shows his entire coolness and want of fear. 
Indeed, his hardihood, though perfectly natural, was such as to look almost like 
bravado; for on one of these occasions he laid down his hand at cards, to be re- 
sumed as soon as he should return, and went laughing to the field, as if to glance for 
a moment at a comedy. At the second duel, after one unsuccessful exchange of 
shots, the spectators, of whom a large number — after the southwestern custom — 
were on the ground, crowded up so closely as scarcely to leave room for the line of 
fire. Prentiss, happening to look about him, spied an enterprising boy perched in a 
tree almost behind him, and called out with the queerest mixture of joke and earnest, 
"My son, you had better take care, Foote is shooting rather wild this morning! " 
At this a great roar of laughter and applause went up from the spectators, and then 
the performance proceeded. 

An occurrence which was almost a duel, not far from the same time, illustrates 
still more strongly both his adherence to his principle of fighting when required, and 
his insensibility to danger. A drunken man once forced himself into his room when 
he was entertaining some invited guests, and after polite intimations to call at an- 
other time had failed to remove him, Prentiss put him out of the house by force. 
The fellow went off and drank more, and late in the night — or rather early in the 
morning, for it was about three o'clock — after the guests had departed, came back 
and rushed into the room, mad for revenge, and furiously demanding satisfaction. 
Prentiss tried in vain to reason with him, assured him that he would meet him next 
day if he should then still require it. But the fellow grew still madder, and asserted 



FEARLESSNESS IN TIME OF PERIL. 595 

that he was put off thus because he was only a mechanic. Finding him so intrac- 
table, Prentiss wakened his negro boy, Burr, sent for his pistols, loaded them care- 
fully, and gave the bully his choice, saying, "Very well, come out here and we'll fire 
on the piazza." He proceeded quietly to train the little negro in the duties of sec- 
ond, showing him how to stand and hold a candle, and how to say, "One, two, three, 
four, five." When the boy had learned his lesson, they took their ground, eight 
paces apart, and the sooty second was about to say "One!" when the drunken fool, a 
gleam of sense flashing athwart his mind, threw down his pistol, crying out, "Pren- 
tiss, do you think I am such a fool as to fight you here at this time of night, and 
nobody but a nigger looking on?" 

Some of the incidents in Prentiss's legal career still more strikingly illustrate the 
utter fearlessness of the man, and his steady coolness in the presence of death. 
After his argument against Phelps for the murder of Cameron, the prisoner, a ruf- 
fian of the vilest kind, and a model of athletic symmetry and strength, confessed to 
the young lawyer that he had formed a plan of escaping during the trial. It was to 
leap upon his lame and boyish prosecutor, kill him at a blow, burst out of the court- 
house in the confusion, and flee to the woods. "I saw it all," quietly answered 
Prentiss, "but I was ready for you." The desperate bravo had endeavored in vain 
to man himself against the powerful, piercing look of that deep, keen eye; and not 
even to try the last chance of saving his own life, dared he assault him. 

His argument against Penn was a still more striking case. Penn was also a bravo ; 
one of those drunken, reckless men, ready of weapon and heavy of hand, who some- 
times ruled a little district of the Southwest as a feudal baron domineered over his 
wretched serfs, by brute force and brute fear. He had a little money, and a large 
claim upon the estate of a man whom he had slain in cold blood, in consequence of a 
quarrel about it, and by virtue of which he was in possession of the property. The 
orphan children of the victim had brought suit to oust him, but he had kept the cause 
along from term to term by pure brute force, swearing that he would shoot on sight 
the judge who should permit the cause to be called, or any man who should dare sit 
as juror on the hearing, or any lawyer who should undertake it against him. The 
sons of Themis in the Southwest were not a race of cowards ; and yet no man thought 
proper to accept the responsibility of bringing that cause into court, when applica- 
tion was made to Prentiss. He consented, of course, and with no more emotion or 
preparation than if he had to move a continuance, he crossed the river into Louisiana, 
where the court in question was to sit, and when the proper time arrived, moved the 



596 HIS SCATHING TONGUE AXD ANGRY EYE, 

cause for trial, opened the case, put in his testimony, and rose to make his argument. 
All this time Penn, the bully defendant, girded with a whole arsenal of pistols and 
bowie-knives, sat grimly by, apparently waiting only for the proper juncture to per- 
form with the greatest possible eclat the assassinations put down in the bill. But 
the bull-dog found himself griped by the throat. Instead of attacking, he found 
himself attacked ; not with an arm of flesh, nor a weapon of war, but with the dread- 
ful fire of a deep, strong, angry eye; the terrible wrath of a gigantic soul flaming 
with a divine indio:nation against his cowardice and ijuilt; and with keen shafts of 
that invective never equaled between the oceans, that limit of our country, driven 
thick and deep through the mail of his vulgar audacity, stinging and rending the 
very depths of his infamous soul. The advocate, instead of spreading a lawyer-like 
plea before the twelve agitated men in the jury-box, turned at once a furious volley 
of wrath upon the astounded defendant, in answer to which he found neither word 
nor knife-thrust nor pistol-ball was ready. "Go !" cried the terrible assailant, while 
his deep eyes blazed insufferable light upon him, and his steady finger pointed him 
out to the scorn of every man in the court-room. "Go! murderer; coward; delib- 
erate assassin ; pest and plague of society; wretch, abhorred of God and man; go 
forth beneath the dark and dreary shadows of that cypress swamp ; put aside that 
long, rank grass; find the bloody grave of your friend whom you murdered to gain 
his gold; dig through the heavy clay: look upon the gory, festering corpse of the 
victim you slew ; lay your face upon his dead and corrupting features ; gaze into the 
lifeless eyes, stiffened and wasting away in their awful silence; and there receive 
the horrible punishment of your crime. Open there your heart to the torments of 
shame for the murder of the father, and for the poverty and misery of the helpless 
children from whom you have stolen their living. Suffer the bitter retribution which 
remorse has prepared for you. Yield your heart to the gnawings of the worm that 
dieth not; to the burning of a fire that is not quenched. And then come back here, 
coward ! murderer ! robber of orphans ! and dare to present again 3'our wicked claim, 
to steal from the children you have orphaned, the means of their living!'' 

With words of which these are a faint image indeed, with a vengeful, scathing 
power which I cannot represent, did Prentiss pour forth the vials of his wrath upon 
the cowering wretch. Penn would at first have faced him fiercely down, but speedily 
dropped his eyes; sat silently enduring the fiery storm for a time; but at last, terri- 
fied and cowed completelj^ out of himself, he rose and rushed in fear and agony out 
of the court-room. Brief was the further argument that was needed; and the cause 



TOO MUCH FOR AN ARMED BULLY. 597 

of the orphans was gained. This was the least remarkable of the good results of the 
speech. Incredible as it may seem, that one address totally broke down the courage 
and subverted the hateful dominion of this murderous tyrant. His bullying was over, 
he ceased from his loud talk and ruffianly actions. The pitiless arrows of the great 
advocate had sunk deep; they poisoned the very fountain of his life; all at once 
he saw himself scorned, loathed, cast out by all men. He skulked instead of strut- 
ting; hid himself from men ; drank himself drunk to escape from his conscience; 
and died a j)oor broken-down sot, a tremendous instance of retributive justice, the 
more awful because so strangely and directly inflicted by a human hand. 

Besides this perfect courage which never feared the face of man, Prentiss wielded 
what must be termed a personal magnetism of a most extraordinary character, and 
without whose influence it is impossible to explain the irresistible power which he 
exerted, either in attracting friends or confounding foes. This power was more re- 
markably exhibited in his political and other speeches ; but a striking instance of it 
was afforded at the trial of Bowie. This man had stabbed a friend to the heart, for 
no reason whatever but in a mere paroxysm of drunken frenzy. So great was the 
feeling in consequence, intensified by the respectability of the victim, that an assist- 
ant was employed with the public prosecutor — a step almost unprecedented in that 
region, and considered dishonorable. This assistant was an experienced and eminent 
lawyer, an adamantine man, inaccessible to the surprises of legal practice, or to any 
impulses of feeling, Prentiss defended Bowie. The trial came, and the evidence 
was put in. It was perfect, uncontradicted, showing a wanton murder. No man 
could dream of any answer to be made. But Prentiss arose, and instead of appeal- 
ing to the jury, turned savagely upon this hard lawyer, and opened upon him a ter- 
rible battery of rebuke and cutting sarcasm, for having stooped to so mean and 
contemptible an office as that of assistant to a public prosecutor. So fierce was the 
attack, and so sudden, so withering the reproofs and reproaches stormed down upon 
him, that before Prentiss had spoken fifteen minutes, the cool, experienced old law- 
yer sat there sobbing and crying like a child, in a perfect tempest of shame and 
mortification. The relentless assailant kept him in misery for almost an hour, and 
at the end of this extraordinary sty\e of argument, so wrought up Avere court, jurA', 
and audience, into a confusion of indignation at the method pursued by the prosecu- 
tion, and sympathy for the prisoner whose life, however justly forfeited, was sought 
so disgracefully, that the jury acquitted him without leaving their seats. 

Not less Avas his skill and power in employing softer feelings. He was once de- 
fending a young man, one of two only sons, close friends, the other of whom his 



598 POWER OVER THE HEARTS OF MEN. 

client had killed in the madness of a sudden quarrel. The mother of the dead, a 
dignified lady, in mourning weeds and bowed with sorrow, was testifying, and her 
testimony, direct, clear and calm, was closing up every hope of acquittal. Prentiss, 
with that chivalric courtliness of manner which was so remarkable in his intercourse 
with women, put question after question, but without avail. Suddenly, with the 
same beautiful manner, he said, pointing to the prisoner, "Would you punish that 
young man with death?" The mourning mother looked where he pointed, and 
answered steadily, *'He has made me childless, let the law take its course." He 
asked again, "And would wringing his mother's heart, and bringing her gray hairs 
with sorrow to the grave, by rendering her also childless, assuage your grief?" All 
who were present were weeping, and convulsive sobs were heard in the court-room. 
The witness answered — her mother's heart spoke for her — "No ! I would not add one 
sorrow to her heart, nor to that of her son." 

And the advocate resumed the more technical series of his questions, and there 
came admissions, and desires that the prisoner might be acquitted, that reversed the 
whole aspect of the testimony ; the witness for the prosecution became an advocate 
for the prisoner, and he was saved. 

Equally conspicuous was his power over the hearts of men, in the Wilkinson trial, 
which, having been reported, has become much better known than many of his more 
wonderful efforts. 

This trial occurred in the spring of 1839, and was on a charge of murder brought 
against Judge Wilkinson — the same strang'er who had been struck with the lio^ht 
upon the countenance of the youthful Prentiss eight years before in the hotel at 
Natchez, and who was now one of his fast friends — and two other gentlemen, all 
Mississippians, of the highest character and standing. These gentlemen had stopped 
at the Gait House, in Louisville, in the previous December, and Judge Wilkinson had 
ordered some clothes of a tailor, which were not satisfactory. The tailor took of- 
fense at the mode in which his work was objected to, and a contest arose in the shop, 
without any decisive result. The indignant man, however, got out warrants for 
assault, and as he had to go to the Gait House to get the names of the delinquents, 
he told his story, on the way, to some of his friends, who, with many threats, and 
armed, accompanied him to the hotel. It is not easy to say precisely what their in- 
tentions were, but the Mississippians were in expectation of an attack, and being set 
upon in the bar-room, on their way to supper, by the tailor's friends, a deadly com- 
bat ensued, from which the strangers escaped alive, but all injured, while in defend- 



GREAT SPEECH IN DEFENSE OF WILKINSON. 599 

ing themselves they had killed two of the assailants, the tailor himself not having 
taken any important part in the affair. The result was naturally a violent excite- 
ment in the community of Louisville, and it was even found necessary to place the 
Mississippians within the jail to defend them from the mob. But after some little 
time they were set at liberty, on bail, the venue was changed, and the trial came on 
at Harrodsburg in the succeeding spring. The peculiar circumstances of the case, 
and the wild, strange individualities of several of the parties, gave a singularly dra- 
matic character to the story, and Prentiss, after showing great skill in handling the 
witnesses, made a still more masterly use of his capability, in his argument to the 
jury. The space at my command will not permit me to quote extracts from this 
powerful speech. Strong as its logic is, splendid as is its rhetoric, and burning its 
invective, on the printed page, it is but a lifeless body compared with the vivid re- 
ality of the splendors of his living words. Those who heard the speech delivered 
find it impossible to read the report with patience; and no wonder, for the reporter 
had disused his art for seven years, and as he says, even while struggling under this 
disadvantage, "found it impossible to resist the fascination which spell-bound him 
from the execution of his task." All that he could do, therefore, was to write out 
his notes in part, endeavoring to give the beginning of each paragraph and sentence, 
and this maimed skeleton he sent some weeks afterwards to Mr. Prentiss to be filled 
out into some similitude of life and beauty by the speaker's own recollections. This 
the great advocate endeavored to do, but he was at no time an easy writer, nor suc- 
cessful in the use of the pen ; nor could he in solitude and quiet recall the winged 
words that had been summoned forth amid the excitement of the forum. This, 
therefore, the best reported of all his speeches, is a lame and melancholy failure, 
though even now it cannot be read without admiration. It consists of a preliminary 
explanation of the reasons for changing the place of trial, a brief statement of the 
line of defense, which was, that there was substantially a conspiracy to kill or 
disgrace the Mississippians, and that they, therefore, acted solely in self-defense; 
an admirable review, as thrilling as the intensest tragedy, of the shifting scenes 
of the transaction, accompanied throughout with a powerful analysis of the testi- 
mony, so conducted as to group it all into a support of the theory of the defense. 
This was intermingled with stinging hits at the management of the prosecution, and 
sarcastic comments upon the conduct of the prosecuting assailants at the Gait House, 
and ended with a fierce and denunciatory personal address to the tailor himself. The 
effect of the whole was most remarkable; even in the precincts of the court, it was 



A DESPERATE CASE IP *«PRENTICE COULDN't CLEAR HIM." 601 

impossible to prevent audible expressions of the feelings he excited. The cool, ex- 
perienced prosecutor, the celebrated Ben Hardin, seeing the deep impression made 
upon court and jury, found himself obliged, in his reply, to begin by an elaborate 
warning against yielding to it, and as the dreadful imagery of the closing apostrophe 
to the trembling prosecutor sounded from the lips of the speaker, the terrible force 
of his words made faces turn pale and knees tremble throughout the crowded room. 
The prisoners were triumphantly acquitted. 

In the case of the murderer, Phelps — whom I have already mentioned, and who 
was one of the only two criminals whom Prentiss ever prosecuted, acting from a con- 
viction that justice required it — the tremendous power of his direct attack was again 
exhibited. 

On the trial, as Prentiss arose to speak, Phelps sat by him with a hardened scowl of 
hatred and wrath. After a time the speaker turned full upon him, described with 
the hot eloquence of righteous wrath his atrocious crimes ; the dreadful punishment 
awaiting him in this world, and that unutterably more dreadful retribution which 
would be pronounced against him at the awful bar of God. 

The audacity of the brutal man was smitten dow^n, his countenance fell, he quailed 
and cast down his eyes, and all at once, overcome by his own conscience, he hid his 
head behind the bar, shutting out his silent confession of guilt and terror from the 
eyes of the audience. 

Not even an endless roll of instances could adequately describe his power over a 
jury. When men would define a culprit's case as hopelessly desperate, they were 
wont to say: "Prentiss couldn't clear him." No client of his w^as ever convicted 
of murder, save one, and he of one of its lower degrees. Scarcely less astonishing 
were the triumphs of his eloquence and logic in cases involving not life, but merely 
property, although the nature of the case does not permit such absorbing interest or 
dramatic power. Under his magic influence, twelve wild w^oodsmen returned their 
verdict for the client whom he defended, in these untechnical but very intelligible 
terms : "We finds for Lawyer Prentiss, and the plaintiff to pay the costs." 

He once defended a slander suit; a most rare species of proceeding in such a case 
for the State of Mississippi, where the custom of those days was to settle such affairs 
without the intervention of courts of law. It w^as cold weather, and the plaintiff, as 
it happened, was thinly clothed. He was well warmed up, though, when the argu- 
ments were concluded, for, as an eye-witness and associate counsel in the case 
relates, the plaintiff, despite the cold and his thin jacket, literally sweat under the 



602 THE JUNIOR counsel's PERPLEXITY. 

irritants of Prentiss's sarcasm and ridicule, until his white coat looked as if it had 
been dipped in the river. The defendant was mulcted in the sum of five hundred 
dollars, but expressed himself entirely content; he had never, he said, paid five hun- 
dred dollars more willingly. 

Even to see or hear the jury expressing a determination adverse to him, did not 
discourage him at all. On a certain trial of a title to land, one Belcher, a mighty 
hunter in those parts, was on the jury; and after the plaintiff (Prentiss was for de- 
fendant) had put in his proofs, old Belcher, a free and plain-spoken woodsman, 
cried out, "That's a good title; I go for plaintiff!" Prentiss, his captivating smile 
playing over his face, replied at once, "Wait a minute. Belcher, wait till you have 
heard my side." "Well," said Belcher, "I'll wait." Having finished his proof, 
Prentiss turned to the old hunter: "Well, Belcher, what do you think of that?" 
"That's a good title too; I'll go with the majority." 

Upon an emergency, the promptness with which Prentiss could summon up his 
powers, and concentrate all his marvelous mental resources upon a case, were little 
less than a miracle, and sometimes not quite free from being ridiculous. He was 
once associate counsel in an important case before the Supreme Court. During the 
session, and a little before the day of trial, his junior wished him to examine the 
record from the court below, on which the case came up, but for one reason or 
another this was put off, and put off, until the evening before the hearing. When 
that evening came, lo and behold, Prentiss was not only absent, but quite undiscov- 
erable. Dreadful was the perplexity of the poor junior; the case was heavy, the 
opposing counsel able and earnest, and Prentiss was their tower of defense. But he 
came not, nor did he appear until next day in the court-room, Avhen the case came 
up for trial. With painful apprehensions, the unhappy junior counsel made the best 
of his sad situation, and opened the case, reading the record with deliberation, that 
the points of the case might well appear; and then recited the points, and enumer- 
ated his authorities. The opposing counsel replied. Prentiss rose to rejoin in 
conclusion, while the junior sat in great apprehension. No fear shadowed the clear 
brow of the speaker, and while his face wore the light of conscious strength, he stated 
the case, after his custom, making it even better against himself than the adversaries 
had done; then established the points on his own side, from general reasons, from 
the particular authorities applicable, from analogies in the law, from striking gen- 
eral comparisons; then he tore in pieces the arguments of the other side, one by one, 
in the order of their coming, showing their fallacy and want of appropriateness in 



HIS FIRST CASE BEFORE THE SUPREME COURT. 603 

the authorities which had been brought to support them, and closed by showing 
again in review the closeness and power with Avhich his own authorities supported his 
case. The cause was gained; and when he sat down, his colleague observed that he 
had learned more about the case from Prentiss than he had from his own deliberate 
researches and reflections. 

It was a strange but significant fact, and illustrative of the breadth and wholeness 
of Prentiss's powers as an interpreter and enforcer of the law, that in whatsoever 
forum he appeared, in that one ^specially did its accustomed habitants believe that 
he shone to the greatest advantage. When only twenty-five years old, and a lawyer 
of but four years' standing, he argued an important case before the Supreme Court 
of the United States, and although I have not found the words in which Chief Justice 
Marshall expressed the tribute of that praise w^hich he ever accorded so rarely and 
so cautiously, his admiration for the thorough learning and powerful logic of the 
young advocate was strong enough to show, that in his opinion, the youth would 
have risen to eminence among the veterans at that grave and solemn bar. 

None w^ho saw him wield the feelings of a jury, turning them to his purpose as a 
man would clay in his hand, believed that like power could be elsewhere exhibited ; 
yet the Chief Justice of Mississippi, a man of clear and calm judgment, thought that 
he appeared best in the close, strong reasonings which belonged to the High Court of 
Errors and Appeals. The reason is simple. Prentiss possessed an intellect at once 
gigantic in power, almost infallible in accuracy, and lightning-like in quickness ; that 
could almost instantaneously apprehend even the widest mass of facts, group them 
into order, and bring them either into the close subjection to principles of law which 
a court required, or into that equally close connection with the great truths of human 
feeling that a jury required; and in addition, his strong passions and sympathies, 
always controlled by his powerful will, fused his own mighty mind at a welding heat, 
into one heart and one soul with those of the twelve in the jury-box ; and thence- 
forward the whole mass, instinct with the fire of his genius and the light of his soul, 
moved and acted as one man, one mind. 

Prentiss's greatest activity as an orator covers nearly the same period with that of 
his most extended practice as a lawyer; that is from about 1833 to 1848. As early 
as 1831, he had made what was, I believe, his first political speech. Jt was an attack, 
bold and telling, upon Martin Van Buren, then the lieutenant of General Jackson, 
and afterwards his political legatee and nominee for the presidency. The opponents 
of the "Old Tennessee Lion," as Prentiss was accustomed to call "Old Hickory," 



604 FIRST APPEARANCE IN NATIONAL POLITICS. 

were but a faint minority in Mississippi at that day, but this speech shed new in- 
spiration of courage among them ; and a stirring appeal to the patriotism of his 
audience, at the close, united friends and enemies in a burst of hearty applause. 
From this time forward he was recognized as a powerful orator ; first within his own 
adopted State, and then, as his fame extended and his arena enlarged, and his voice 
was heard in more and more of the States, throughout all our broad land. The 
periods during which he spoke most frequently were the canvass for Congress during 
the summer of 1837, and that after he was refused his seat at Washington, during 
the spring of 1838 ; that for United States Senate, in 1839, and f orpresidential electors, 
in 1840; and the years 1841-3, when he spoke frequently against the policy of re- 
pudiation. The whole series of years from 1833, or 1835 to 1845 when he removed 
from the State, was thickly sprinkled with public speeches, orations and addresses of 
all kinds, on all occasions, and to every conceivable species of audience, from a school 
of boys up to the Congress of the United States ; and from a chance-gathered knot of 
friends, up to the vast multitude that filled a great square, or crowded beneath the 
forest canopy at a barbecue. It could scarcely be known in any nook or corner of 
the land that Seargent S. Prentiss was present, without an instant demand for a speech. 

"They think" he said once, "that I can pull speeches out of my mouth as easily 
as a juggler does ribbons." 

The traditions of his power as a public speaker are no less striking than those which 
relate to his victories in the courts of law. As a member of the State Legislature, 
in 1837, he had attracted much attention by two powerful speeches, one overflowing 
with beautiful imagery and touching reminiscence, in favor of an act to give land for 
churches to the various religious sects at Jackson, and another equally full of point 
and indignant vigor, against what he considered the unconstitutional admission of 
members from certain new counties. His first appearance upon the stage of national 
politics was his speech at Natchez, on opening the canvass for election of members 
of Congress, at the end of August, 1837. Here he appeared as the youthful cham- 
pion of the Whig minority of Mississippi, and then and thenceforward he was the 
leader of the Whigs of his State in many a hard fought field. The audience as- 
sembled to hear him included many who had known him since he first came to 
Natchez, an ^bscure boy, without friends or money, and others who admired his 
straightforward course and forcible speeches in the Legislature. Whigs and Dem- 
ocrats alike were anxious to hear this new speaker, already reckoned a favorite son of 
his adopted State, and enjoying a reflected celebrity and a natural affection, in con- 



ELECTED TO CONGRESS BUT FORBIDDEN HIS SEAT. 605 

sequence of a Fourth of July speech lately delivered during a visit to his home, at 
Portland, in which he had worthily upheld the honor of Mississippi. 

This speech was only the beginning; and despite all opposition, his career through- 
out the State was startlingly triumphant. He encouraged friends, convinced and 
converted, or discomfited and scattered foes ; brought enthusiastic accessions to the 
Whig ranks in every county; revolutionized the State; and with his colleague, was 
elected over his competitors, Claiborne and Gholson, men of high character, ability 
and station, by a majority not in itself enormous, but which under the wand of their 
new enchanter, was summoned out of less than nothing. He had been made a can- 
didate, in his absence, at the July election, and was beaten 2,800 votes. His ma- 
jority in November was about 2,500; and his vote the largest that had ever been 
cast in the State. 

Upon presenting themselves at Washington, Mr. Prentiss and his colleague. Judge 
Word, found themselves forbidden to take their seats ; the other party, under the 
pressure of a dangerous approach to an equality of power in the House, being re- 
solved to retain Claiborne and Gholson during the coming two years. This injustice, 
now on all sides admitted to be so, was then defended only on technical grounds. 

In the closely balanced condition of parties in the House, as these two votes might 
lose or carry measures vital to the administration, the Mississippi contested election 
excited a profound interest throughout the whole country. Prentiss, who naturally 
became the leading claimant, had been known to no man then at Washington, until a 
few years before, and was personally known to scarcely any of them now. Such of 
his friends from the Southwest as were there, however, expressed themselves easy as 
to the result of his argument on the case, and indistinct but astonishing reports of his 
wonderful powers began to float about the city. At a meeting of Whig Congress- 
men, at the opening of the session, and before Prentiss and Word had arrived, it 
was proposed that some experienced members should be appointed tutors for these 
raw recruits, to protect and aid them in preparing their case. Mr. Dawson, of 
Georgia, told them that instead of a babe to be nursed, one of these men, at least, 
would be found a giant champion to be followed ; that nobody would need to say 
*'up-a-diddy" to him! 

And even after they came, Mr. Word, though totally free from apprehension, could 
yet not altogether remove the doubts which oppressed the minds of the Whigs. Per- 
haps no speech ever delivered in the House, except possibly his subsequent closing 
rejoinder, was more eagerly waited for. 



606 HIS GREAT SPEECH IK DEFENSE OF HIS CLAIM. 

When the hour came, this unknown orator stepped forth before the loftiest audience 
in the land, as calm and confident as if moving to a feast with his friends. He had 
not uttered a single sentence before every hearer was eagerly intent upon his w^ords; 
he pressed forward with dignity into the discussion of his subject, and stood forth a 
finished gentleman, a polished orator, an irresistible logician, a magnificent declaimer, 
an impetuous vindicator of his injured State ; where some had vaguely expected merely 
outbursts of wild backwoods vehemence, or the violence and rage of a wrathful par- 
tisan. The word flew quickly through the capitol that a mighty orator was there in 
presence ; the stately Senators came one by one across to listen ; the eagerness to 
hear him became an intense desire ; and ere the close of his argument, which occu- 
pied parts of three whole days, the Eepresentatives' hall, the lobbies, the floor, the 
galleries, all were crowded almost beyond endurance by ladies, present members, and 
ex-members of Congress, army and navy officers, judges, lawyers, men of eminence 
from all parts of the country, and foreign dignitaries. Noble, indeed, was that audi- 
ence; fit for the noble powers of so great a speaker ; for in it were Henry Clay, John 
Quincy Adams, Hugh Lawson White, Daniel Webster, John Bell, Henry A. Wise, 
Millard Fillmore, Crittendon, Preston, Corwin, Legare, Cushing, Southard, and 
many more, all sitting delighted under his words. Almost breathless, the majestic 
assembly listened. Surprised, yet not discomposed, but rather strengthened and 
elevated, to observe what hearts he was wielding, Prentiss rose higher and higher in the 
mighty sweep of his eloquence. The few short sentences of his conclusion, delivered 
with all the force, glow, and beauty of his earnest manner, thrilled through the vast 
audience. He ended, and a crowd of friends — and many political adversaries too — 
gathered about him in enthusiastic joy. No one yet living of all who heard him re- 
members that speech except with astonishment. Many were the compliments be- 
stowed on it then and afterwards. Of all, none was better than were the brief, de- 
liberate, weighty words of Daniel Webster. As he left the hall, he observed to a 
friend, "Nobody could equal it." 

I have not the heart to quote a word of this noble effort. A report of it exists ; 
but it is only dry bones. He could not write it out himself, and the vehement impet- 
uosity of his delivery utterly dumbfounded and baffled the swift and practiced pencils 
of the dismayed short-hand men. 

The administration spent a week and more in a long row of lame replies, ending 
with that of the brilliant and learned Hugh S. Legare, wdio for once made a failure, 
being, as his biographer admits, "certainly on the wrong side." When their case was 



SECOND CANVASS OF HIS STATE. 607 

closed, Prentiss rejoined in another speech, of which hardly a word remains on rec- 
ord, but which was, perhaps, even superior to his former one, and delivered to a 
house, if possible, even more crowded. The vote taken on the close of this speech de- 
cided Gholson and Claiborne not members, by a majority of seven ; but instead of 
following this by admitting Prentiss and Word, the dominant party first moved the 
decision along on various pretexts, while they drummed up sick men and absentees 
on every hand, and then voted that these two gentlemen were not entitled to a seat, 
the resolution being carried by Speaker Polk's casting vote upon a tie. 

At this unjust, but not unnatural nor entirely unexpected sentence, after a few 
days' delay in Washington, and partaking of a great public dinner given to him and 
his colleague, Prentiss drew up an address to his constituents, sent it on before him, 
and then setting his face homeward, prepared at once to repeat the laborious canvass 
of his State, that the repetition of her choice might vindicate herself and him to- 
gether. 

This canvass was, perhaps, the most magnificent and pleasurable of Prentiss's 
whole career. He was in perfect health. He could live for weeks in unintermitted 
excitement, with barely three or four hours' sleep a day. Often did he spend an en- 
tire day in the labors of the court, or in delivering long and impassioned speeches, 
then the evening and night in gaming and drinking with his friends until the last of 
them was helplessly intoxicated, then sit quietly down by himself and read Shakes- 
peare or the Bible, until the business hours of the next day approached, wash his 
face and hands in cold water, take his breakfast, and resume his labor in the court or 
the political meeting, looking as fresh and sprightly as a child, and with no sense or 
appearance of fatigue. For a week together he could go, if necessary, with abso- 
lutely no sleep at all. His frame seemed all iron, and its power of resisting abuse, 
even the severest, appeared inexhaustible. An incident of this canvass illustrates the 
firm balance and steady strength of his system and his brain. His opponents, in fear 
of the results of his oratory in one county whose vote was so large as to enable it 
almost to decide the fate of the State, and which was called the "Empire County," 
had not only sent two of their very best speakers, men unsurpassed by any orator in 
the State, except Prentiss, into this debatable ground, but had arranged an artful 
scheme which it was hoped might for once, at least, keep this tremendous combatant 
out of the arena. It was contrived, in short, to give a great dinner to Prentiss on 
the day of his most important appointment; and at this, a succession of challenges 
to drink were to be given, which the well-known social tendencies of the great orator 



608 A SCHEME THAT PROVED A BOOMERANG. 

made it certain that he would accept. Thus he was to be overflowed with liquor, and 
left helpless and drunk, while his foes might, unopposed, argue and exhort at their 
leisure. The dinner was offered and accepted ; for Prentiss was on excellent social 
terms even with his stoutest political opponents, and the preconcerted stratagem was 
put in operation. One after another, all the great table full asked Prentiss to drink; 
and courteously and gaily, and utterly unsuspecting, he drank with all. Thus with 
tale and jest, and song and floods of wine, the time sped rapidly on until the hour for 
the speeches came. But the wily foemen had "fallen into the pit which they had 
digged." Of their two very best speakers, one lay on the table and the other un- 
der it, senseless and motionless, while their intended victim, somewhat excited, it 
is true, but perfect master of his motions and his thoughts, quietly arose and went 
forth to the rostrum, and forthwith made one of his most powerful and effective 
speeches. 

The dread felt of Prentiss by his foes, is shown by the course the opposing 
candidates pursued in this canvass. One of them made no speeches at all, but only 
talked and wrote letters. The other, after meeting him in public once or twice, 
found it inconvenient to make any further appointments with him. His passage 
through the State was a triumphal progress. No speaker presumed to meet him 
before an audience without being overthrown ; and his route was marked by vast 
crowds, enthusiastic ovations, and the incessant blaze and thunder of his splendid 
oratory. In Copiah county, a stronghold of Van Burenism, a shouting audience 
of friends and foes bore him in triumph, at the end of his address, from the stand to 
his hotel. As he spoke, j^ou might see lifelong Democrats, tears of emotion stream- 
ing down their cheeks, and laughing in hysterics of enthusiasm ; and others fairly 
leaping off the ground, and hurrahing and casting their hats into the air. At the 
end of one speech, an old Democrat walked towards him, tearing his coat apart at the 
back as he came. As he approached, he said: "They may call me a turn-coat, but I 
won't he that. I shall just back out of my coa^ and vote for Prentiss and "Word." 
And as he spoke, back he went through the midst of the tattered garment. 

There was a curious collision during this campaign between Prentiss and a show of 
wild beasts. The shrewd showman got the list of Prentiss's appointments, and fol- 
lowing in his train, fairly robbed him of at least one audience, and the great orator 
was fain to come to an understanding with the man of monkeys, and an arrangement 
was made, in accordance with which each exhibitor occupied his hour. Once or 
twice, to please the wild humor of his hearers, he spoke from the top of a wild 



RE-ELECTED AND GIVEN" HiS SEAT. 609 

beast's cage. On one such occasion he stood on the lion's cage, and spoke. At the 
first thunder of applause, the elephant trumpeted, the tigers and the bears growled 
or grunted, and the monkeys chattered in ridiculous union of excitement. The ready 
speaker wove into his discourse every beast as a similitude of a man, a passion, or a 
weakness. He ended with laughable applications of the characters of the fox, the 
jackal ; and at last likened some queer-looking political opponent of the day to the 
baboon, who presided over the cage of monkeys. The instant recognition of the 
point brought out a great scream of laughter, whereupon the baboon put on a quaint 
grimace. Prentiss instantly bowed as if in apology, and deprecatingly exclaimed to 
the ungainly creature: "My dear sir, I see 3^our feelings are hurt by the comparison. 
I humbly beg your pardon." Again, in like manner, he was mounted on the hyena's 
cage, in the top of which he discovered sundry holes for ventilation. In the course 
of his harangue, in the midst of his bitterest and boldest onslaught upon the cor- 
ruptions and abominations of the administration party, he ran his cane into the cage, 
and while the infuriated beast sent forth a horrible yell, he gesticulated violently 
with the other hand. "Fellow-citizens," he cried in simulated enthusiasm, "the 
very beasts are shocked at such infamy ! Hear the indignation of the honest fellow 
just below me ! Listen to his yell of patriotic shame and indignation !" The ridic- 
ulous idea exploded the assembly into a perfect whirl-wind of laughter. The orator 
went on to describe the numerous faults of the opposing party, at each one of which 
this hyena, of such tender political morality, sent forth a more and more furious 
yell. The howls of that one beast were good for a hundred votes. 

The result of the canvass was the election of Prentiss and Word. Upon presenting 
themselves to be sworn in at Washington, June, 1838, Prentiss informed speaker 
Polk that they demanded to be sworn, not under the certificate of Gov. McNulty 
just received, but under that same certificate of Gov. Lynch, which had been voted 
void the winter before by the House. They were sworn without objection, and the 
bold young Whig stood completely victorious over foes at home, and the marshaled 
strength of the administration at the capital. 

His life at Washington was brilliant, gay, jovial, dissipated. He delivered several 
powerful and eloquent speeches upon the important questions of the day; one, burn- 
ing with wrath and satire, upon the notorious defalcations which marked so disgrace- 
ful an era in our political history, and another on the sub-treasury question. Other 
striking displays of eloquence and power were made at various times ; personal attacks 
upon men, in his opinion, deserving punishment; always of the same vigorous and 
39 



610 tti^ c6N(iR£ssioKAL Career. 

incisive character, but of not one of them have we a satisfactory report. Here again 
his instinctive and incurable distaste for the drudgerj'^ of routine labor, prevented 
him from sharing in a department of public business, in which, his power of working 
rapidly and correctly would have made him distinguished as a practical statesman. 
He would not harness himself into the regular labor of the debates, nor attend the 
daily workshop of a committee room. 

Between the first and second sessions of his term, he made a journey to Maine, 
during which he spoke at Portland, in Faneuil Hull, Boston, at New York, and else- 
where, returning to New Orleans from New York by sea to escape the thickening 
importunities for speeches which he was too kind-hearted to deny, but -which had 
already worn on his health, fatigued as even his almost impregnable strength had be- 
come under the excessive labors of his two canvasses and the excitements of Wash- 
ington. On his arrival, he was received with triumphant joy both at New Orleans 
and at Vicksburg, with discharges of cannon, cavalcades of friends, public dinners, 
speeches ; all the showy and gorgeous formalities which greet the successful politician 
and orator. He had earned them. Notwithstanding his dislike of hard work, he 
had traveled, during a little more than a year, nearly thirteen thousand miles ; had 
canvassed his State twice ; doing work enough in riding and speaking, either time, to 
kill two strong men; making speeches without number, and revolutionizing its 
political attitude; spoken on a score and more of other occasions, at w^iatever place 
he was in, when requested ; in short, he had completely established a great and firm 
national reputation as politician, orator, and lawyer, at the age of twenty-nine. 

Seldom has so early and so rapid an ascent to fame been known, and more seldom 
still, has it been attained so quickly by such adequate and solid merit. At this time 
the land was full of his celebrity. Every man who had been at Washington was 
asked if he had heard him ; in every company of travelers his name was a household 
word ; stories of his personal and public life were everywhere told ; correspondents 
from the capital wove them into their letters ; indeed, the newspapers of the time 
were a minority, which did not contain either extracts or sketches of gome of his 
speeches, or anecdotes illustrative of his adventures or of his brilliant intellect. 

The second session of his congressional term closed, he gladly returned to Vicks- 
burg to the practice of the law, and to endeavor to repair the disorder into Avhich 
his private affairs had fallen during the short but expensive period of his late political 
exertions. In the summer of 1839, however, he was called b}^ the unanimous voice 
of his party in the State, to become a candidate for the United States Senate. This 



ACTIVITY IN THE CAMPAIGN OF 1840. 611 

he consented to do, for he could not but acknowledge the truth of the strongly urged 
argument, that he, and he alone, could rally the Whig host in Mississippi to the battle, 
with a hope of success. 

Although greatly hampered by business engagements, and unable — such was his 
disgust with political life — to throw his heart into the work, he yet conducted the 
severe labor of the canvass with vigor and industrj^ and would, doubtless, have been 
chosen, had the popular vote decided; but local questions and divisions so modified 
the character of the election as to give the appointment to his competitor, Mr. 
Robert J. Walker. The failure was far from being unfortunate; for success could 
only have complicated further Mr. Prentiss's pecuniary affairs, already in great dis- 
order, and thrown him again into the vortex of Washington life, which was neither 
pleasant nor beneficial to him. 

During the early part of 1840, Mr. Prentiss was obliged to relax his laborious 
avocations, and at last to seek repose from toil and excitement, for his powers of en- 
durance and exertion, so massive and apparently impregnable, had at last given way. 
He gradually recovered, and in the latter part of June set out on another journey to 
Portland, to which place his mother and family had removed. This journey and the 
return lasted until the latter part of September. During all of it he was incessantly 
beset with applications to address public audiences. The intense excitement of the 
Harrison campaign was just rising to its flood; and from State after State, literally 
from one end of the Union to the other, he was besiesred with letters, beg-grinff that 
his voice might be heard in one or another dark corner where he only could spread 
light, or in a dangerously even balance of political forces where he alone could turn 
the scale. He spoke at New Orleans, St. Louis, Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland, Buf- 
falo, Syracuse, New York, Newark, Portland, and Gorham; usually in the open air, 
to audiences of from two to six thousand, and for three hours at a time. Utterly ex- 
hausted, he escaped from New York, by sea, to New Orleans, gaining a little rest, but 
not enough; and, finding himself under the ill-omened influence of unaccustomed ill 
health, began to suffer from wretched melancholy. He had sometimes been troubled 
in this way during his early days of uncongenial labor and obscurit}^, and at long in- 
tervals, even amidst the rush and whirl of his prime of strength, but seldom only, 
and this re-inforcement of such dark hosts more than once overcame him with a 
gloom quite unfelt before. He was Whig candidate for presidential elector, and, of 
course, must once more canvass the State; so on went the heavy harness, and during 
October he toiled, an unshorn Samson in the mill of these amicable Philistines, and 



612 FIGHTING REPUDIATION. 

was instrumental in carrying Mississippi for Harrison by 3,000 majority ; and then 
totally worn out he returned to Vicksburg, and again, after a few days' rest, the 
marvelous spring of youth and strength within him brought him up to his usual level 
of jocund strength and tireless occupation in business and in enjoyment. He labored 
hard through the remainder of 1840 and 1841 ; years chequered with sorrow and joy. 
His property had been deeply incumbered in the great ruin of 1837 and the sub- 
sequent years, and then and ever afterwards he labored under a great mountain of 
debts incurred as security and otherwise. His health, before so perfect, showed 
some indications of failure. And his political career, glorious as it had been, had 
yielded to him only a bitter fruit, the knowledge of how empty is the applause of the 
public. 

During the years 1840 to 1843, he came forth upon the field of political effort. 
During those years he made many speeches on the question of repudiation, some of 
which were among the most magnificently powerful, with his terrible weapons of in- 
dignant eloquence, withering sarcasm, and logic all on fire with angry justice, of all 
his long series of great speeches. He labored bravely and efficiently to clear the 
skirts of his adopted State of the shameful blot which her refusal to pay the Union 
Bank bonds had cast upon her, but in vain; although since his death the decision 
of the court of last resort in the State has fully established every point for which he 
contended so long and so well. 

Once more during the presidential campaign of 1844, he went forth among the 
people, using all the resources of his great mind in battling for Henry Clay, so long 
his favorite statesman, and almost his political ideal. The speeches which he made 
durino- this contest were his greatest. Not inferior to those of his joyous prime in mag- 
nificent diction, overflowing splendor of metaphor and illustration, burning denunci- 
ation, or glittering shafts of wit and satire, they were far superior to them in the 
grand and broad views of ethical truth, which are the soul of all really wise and 
weio-hty political action. The questions on which he had spoken before were, it would 
seem, important enough. It might be thought that the revenue of a mighty nation, or 
the credit system which had been so colossal a servant, and yet sometimes so mad a 
master, of our national enterprise ; or the question whether the nation should give of its 
money to make national highways, were great enough. In 1844, however, the}^ had 
passed backwards into places of subordinate and half forgotten consequence in compar- 
ison with the old, primeval giants of principle, that were upheaving like buried Titans, 
from beneath the disrupted surface of political affairs. Eternal principles of justice, 



HIS GREAT SPEECHES AT NASHVILLE. 613 

the moral duties of kings — for every voter is a king — the obligations of citizens to 
do right, to use self-denial and self-restraint in political action, such were the lofty 
themes which, during these years, he interpreted to audience after audience, with aU. 
the glow and splendor of former years, and with an added and deeper and more im- 
pressive grandeur of thought, of majestic philosophy, of sublime ethical knowledge 
and conception, which lifted these later speeches to a far loftier grade of excellence. 

Of none, however, of all the noble oratory of these last years, have we any more 
competent reports than of tlieir predecessors. His great speeches at Nashville, in 
August, 1844, before the Whig Convention, one in the morning, and another in the 
public square at night, were counted by his friends, who heard him, far the most 
magnificent he had delivered yet. 

The first was given to an audience computed at forty thousand. A distinguished 
blind friend of mine, Mr. Churchman, told me that he stood wedged in the throng 
under a broiling sun, and at the close of the oration, disappointed at its shortness, 
drew out his watch, felt the hands to find the time, and discovered that he had been 
listening: to Prentiss full three hours ; and added, that he could have stood with de- 
light for another three hours, so complete was the enchantment. The crowd, many 
of whom had come five hundred miles to hear the orator, thronged at night the pub- 
lic square in front of his hotel, and shouted for another speech. With his accustomed 
amiability, he strove to satisfy them, but the draught upon his strength was too 
great, and in the midst of this second speech he fainted, and was falling, when his 
friend. Gov. Jones, sprang forward, and caught him in his arms — in the transport of 
his enthusiasm shouting, "Die, Prentiss, die! You will never have a more glorious 
chance ! ' ' 

During his speech at Natchez, in the same year — a speech which, in its turn, was 
said by those who had heard both, to be superior even to that at Nashville — might be 
seen strong men weeping aloud in their ungovernable emotion ; others laughing hys- 
terically ; others all white with fear ; the souls of the great assembly were wielded 
and turned hither and thither by the emotion of the speaker, as a reed shakes or 
bows in a mighty wind. One young man in particular, was lifted into an actual ec- 
stasy of unconscious excitement. With eyes unchangingly fixed on the speaker, his 
features moved in response to the sentiments uttered, and as the tide of eloquence 
rose or fell, with it his body swayed— rising, falling, moving to and fro. The 
speaker perceived this absorption into himself, and understood it; and afterwards 
said it was the greatest oratorical triumph of his life. 



614 FAREWELL TO MISSISSIPPI. 

In these years occurred an incident illustrative of the mysterious and magnetic 
power which his mere presence exerted upon an audience. He was to speak in reply 
to a powerful opponent, and on a subject in which he was deeply interested; and in 
answer to arguments which aroused not only his intellect, but his righteous indigna- 
tion. When he came forward upon the platform, he stood for some minutes in si- 
lence, looking upon the great crowd before him. Mr. Prentiss's eyes, always bright, 
clear, and strong, changed strangely under great excitement; the clear, dark gray 
of the pupil seeming to dilute, and becoming actually red, so that his eyes appeared 
to flash fire. Thus he stood, as an eye-witness described him to me, his face kind- 
ling, his eyes flashing, his whole form growing, until it was as if a giant stood there. 
And the silent, expectant audience felt the m3^stic power of his presence, and stood 
until the silence was painful, and then a sudden thunder of applause burst forth, that 
rent the air ; men leaped from the ground, flinging up their hats and shouting like 
mad-men. The silent orator smiled, and waved his hand; the audience was still 
again, and he proceeded with his speech. 

In October, 1844, at Jackson, Mr. Prentiss delivered a speech in which he pro- 
nounced his farewell to the State of Mississippi. The lofty strains of his eloquence 
had been delighting all the audience, when with a sudden change of subject he de- 
clared his intention of leaving the State, and that this was probably his last political 
speech in it. So sadly affecting were the words and emotions with which he bid 
farewell to his many friends, that thousands shed tears; as he closed, the audience 
sat motionless ; dinner was announced, yet not a man moved ; and the heavy cloud of 
gloom thus settled over their minds by the grief of the speaker, was not dissipated 
until the presiding ofiicer called forth an enlivening song from a glee-club. 

Such are the anecdotes which are the imperfect and unsatisfactory, but best remain- 
ing means of estimating and describing Prentiss as a public speaker. 

There were several reasons for Prentiss's removal from Vicksburg to New Orleans, 
in 1845. A course of litigation, involving the title to all his large real estate in 
Vicksburg suddenly and unexpectedly, in that year, deprived him of it all, and left 
him not only penniless, but under a great debt of securities and other liabilities. 
This he never succeeded in paying, notwithstanding his courageous labor, but re- 
mained, in his own words, all the rest of his life "floundering like a fish in a net." 

The business of his profession in Mississippi had at the same time become much 
more laborious and less remunerative than before, and the wonderful enduring health 
which had enabled him to make sport of toil, at the same time began to show sigrs 



LAST APPEARANCE IN THE FIELD OF POLITICS. 615 

of failure. And lastly, the State of his adoption had, in spite of his most earnest and 
powerful pleadings, and the whole influence of a minority of intelligent and honor- 
able men, deliberately repudiated and refused to repay a great sum of money which 
she had borrowed and spent. Some of the boldest, strongest, and most bitterly and 
fearlessly sarcastic of Prentiss's speeches had been made on this question, but his 
efforts were vain. 

After some deliberation, he decided to remove to New Orleans, where he had many 
friends, where he would not be entirely out of reach of the many other friends still left 
him in Mississippi, and where his business prospects would be excellent, with the one 
drawback of being obliged to master an entirely new system of legal principles and 
practice ; for Louisiana is governed by a modification of that civil law which is the 
basis of the European continental jurisprudence ; and which is almost as different 
from the English common law as the old Jewish theocracy, or the Mohammedan 
practice of deciding by common sense and the Koran. 

Mr. Prentiss had scarcely established himself in his new home, when business be- 
gan to come in upon him at a rate fully justifying his expectations. He speedily 
made himself familiar with the peculiarities of the local law, and was quickly on the 
way to as high a position as he had held in Mississippi. For two or three years he 
occupied himself closely and laborioursly with his profession, scarcely indulging in 
even a day's recreation, and taking no part in politics. In the presidential campaign 
of 1848, however, he once more, and for the last time, appeared in the field of poli- 
tics, and took an active part in the canvass, making many speeches in various parts 
of Louisiana and Mississippi, and indeed exerting himself far beyond his now seriously 
diminished powers of endurance. The long years of terrific strain and expenditure 
of his great physical force brought upon him, about the time of his removal to New 
Orleans, organic difficulties of a very weakening kind; and the labors of this can- 
vass undoubtedly confirmed their hold upon him. Had he rested in a quiet home 
during that summer, he would, in all probability, have lived many years, the greatest 
orator and lawyer of the land, its glory and pride ; but he had never learned the les- 
son of living carefully. He traveled, spoke, and conversed; swam swollen rivers to 
keep appointments; exhausted health and spirits, and paid for the constitutional 
forces thus discounted in advance, by an illness, and he never was a well man again. 

It is a sad story, that of the short remainder of the life of the great advocate and 
orator. His vital organs irremediably injured by the inconceivable abuses in his life 
of tempestuous exertion and indulgence, his appetite gone, his lungs and throat 



616 HIS DEATH AT NATCHEZ, MISSISSIPPI. 

diseased, his stomach weak, he was actually unable, during nearly all his life at New Or- 
leans, to deliver a speech, or an argument, without either being thrown into a paroxysm 
of vomiting, or fainting entirely away. Often assailed by those black phantoms of mel- 
ancholy which beleaguer us in failing health, haunted and weighed down by a dread- 
ful burden of debts, the brave man yet labored, never taking a hand from his work 
until his grasp failed from sheer exhaustion. He ploughed through dreary masses of 
legal research and preparation with the unbroken strength of his iron will, often 
serene and cheerful, though not with the rich, effervescent fun which had over- 
flowed from the wealth of his youthful and hopeful heart. He felt no more fear of 
pain or death, than of the face of man; and though his strength slowly, but surely 
ebbed from him, his hopes, and his resolves never failed or faltered. Two of his last 
arguments on behalf of the Cuban filibuster, Lopez, and on the great Poultney claim, 
were delivered from a chair, because he was too feeble to stand ; yet he worked on, until 
the muscles and nerves and brain had no more power to obey the commands of the 
unsubdued mind, and he could labor no longer. In the summer of 1849, he made a 
last journey North; but the haggard prints of wasting care, and more wasting dis- 
ease in his face, and the thickly sprinkled gray in his hair, appalled the loving hearts 
that greeted him ; and he returned without special improvement. In the course of 
the year 1850 his disease increased. In June he sent his family into the country, but 
himself continued to labor with an almost insane energy, never able to realize the 
necessity of rest, nor how low the current of his life was ebbing. His last argument 
for Lopez exhibited unimpaired all the wondrous power of his mind, but was heard 
with unspeakable sadness by many who deeply felt that the enfeebled body was fall- 
ing into dust ; that his voice was heard for the last time in the places of its power; 
that soon his face would be seen no more among- men. 

He was removed to Natchez, where his family were, scarcely expected to reach the 
place alive, so exhausted was he with a recent violent attack of his disease, which 
assumed almost the appearance of Asiatic cholera. Hovering between life and death, 
he lay for a week; was delirious, with brief intervals, for another week; then fell into 
a soft sleep like an infant's, which grew deeper and deeper for another day, and 
never waking, quietly passed away July 1st, 1850. 

He was below middle height, broad-shouldered, deep-chested, enormously strong 
of limb, and in spite of his withered leg, a bold and sure rider, and able to cope with 
much larger men than himself in athletic exercises. A tall, strong, drunken political 
colonel once raised a cane to strike him, whereupon Prentiss seized him with a vise- 



PERSONAL APPEARANCE AND CHARACTERISTICS. 617 

like grip, disarmed and held him motionless until he was cowed out of his intended 
assault. 

His complexion was clear and pale, and his temperament a combination of the 
nervous, bilious and sanguine. His head was large and high; as Mr. Henry A. 
Wise described it, "a two-story head with a large attic on top;" his forehead broad, 
lofty, capacious ; his eyes large, well-set, of a strong, dark, grayish-hazel ; his nose 
rather large and thick; his chin and jaws square and strong; his lips full. He 
walked by the help of a cane, which he was accustomed, when about to speak, to 
throw underneath his lame leg; and its stumping sound was well known throu"-hout 
Mississippi, as the signal of a resistless burst of eloquence. 

The expression of his eyes in repose was thoughtful, and even dreamy and poetical ; 
but when aroused, they flashed the strange, red gleam of which I have spoken; and 
though his full lips were sometimes thought almost voluptuous in outline, they wore 
an expression of indomitable will. I have already described the influence of his 
presence upon an assembly. It was no less remarkable among his friends or his 
family. There seemed a charmed atmosphere about him, an actual radiance of joy- 
ousness and genial delight; it was as if one came into sunshine. "It excited pleasur- 
able emotion," a friend says, "like the song of birds in spring." The carriage of 
his head was said to be much like Byron's, as was something in his manner. As he 
became interested in conversation, his face glowed with the beauty and fervor of his 
thoughts; his peculiarly radiant smile shone upon all around him, and the sweet andi^- 
harmonious tones of his voice, which could nevertheless be heard when he exerted it, 
at the distance of a mile, enhanced the powerful impression of his presence and his 
thoughts. His manners and address were singularly winning. He was a favorite at 
first sight with every one, from little children and ignorant negroes up to gray- 
headed statesmen and fathers in the church. 

His endowments gave him immeasurable advantages over other men in that field of 
legal effort where he was most celebrated, viz: in arguments to a jury. 

Instinctive power in comprehending the main points of a case, magical quickness 
in reading manuscript or print, a power of reduction to general principles, as resist- 
less and exhaustive as the destroying analysis of nature, but quick as lightning, gave 
him advantages that a lifetime of tremendous labor would not secure to his com- 
petitors. And when he had thus quickly made himself master of the case, again he 
could command other and no less remarkable powers. He set forth his case before 
the jury in short, plain terms ; he illustrated it with comparisons so clear and common 



618 NATURAL ENDOWMENTS. 

that a child might understand it ; he examined his witnesses with deliberate care, 
selected the strongest points to argue, and then let loose upon the judicial twelve, that 
great battery of logic, wit, pathos, sarcasm, indignation, ridicule, which carried them 
off their feet and hypnotized them into a verdict, A jury in those days could not 
resist him. If he had the "closing turn" he had the case, and usually, whether 
or no. 

There have been many more learned lawj^ers; many equal logicians; perhaps 
equally great masters of wit, of pathos, of ridicule; but scarce ever one who, along 
with these purely intellectual qualities, possessed that broad, deep, overflowing 
nature, that poured itself out in such a flood of resistless sympathy, sweeping the 
jury along in its torrent of reason and passion, as a mountain stream charged with 
rocks sweeps all obstacles before it. His position among the great lawyers of the 
Southwest is well described by one who compared him with Joseph Holt, since Judge 
Advocate-General, as they appeared in an important case. "Holt's speech," he says, 
"was like the report of a cannon ; but Prentiss's was the roar of a thousand." 

His character as an orator was still more remarkably distinguished by the breadth, 
depth, and wholeness of a healthy, yet sensitively sympathetic humanity. He was 
not a mere intellect, picturing ideas to his audience — not a mere man who talked ; 
but a great heart, a great soul, feeling intensely, believing profoundly and nobly 
there before their eyes, with throbbings as of their own hearts; a faith like the 
dearest faiths of their own souls ; but so large, so strong, pulsating so powerfully, 
that the instinctive sympathy of man with man made them his own before a word 
was spoken. And when the regal intellect, with unconscious, playful ease where 
other orators were fain to use gigantic effort, supplied thick-coming thoughts and an 
unfailing flood of perfect words to embody them, and thus created all the shapes of 
splendor, or sorrow, or joy, or mirth, which men desire for the articulate expression 
of feeling; when the perfect harmony of this unparalleled combination of human 
powers thus directed so deeply all the fountains of human emotion, what wonder 
is it that his speeches produced an unprecedented effect? 

Scarcely any man has spoken so movingly, rapidly, unpremeditatedly, and at the 
same time so correctly. Mr. Everett says that his speaking was "the most wonder- 
ful specimen of sententious fluency ever witnessed." "The words poured from his 
lips in a torrent," says again the same competent authority, "but the sentences were 
correctly formed, the matter grave and important, the train of thought distinctly 
pursued, the illustrations wonderfully happy." 



ORATORICAL STYLE AND POWER. 619 

It was at this time that Mr. Everett inquired of Mr. Webster, who sat next him, if 
he had ever heard anything like that speech, and Mr. Webster replied, "Never ex- 
cept from Mr. Prentiss himself." 

Prentiss himself once strikingly described the most essential peculiarity of his 
oratory, its sympathetic character and force. 

A friend said to him, "You always mesmerize me when you speak." "Then," he 
answered, "it is an affair of reciprocity; for a multitude always electrifies me." And 
again, he said, in speaking of the excitement into which the inspiration of an audience 
lifted him, "I feel at such times a kind of preternatural rapture; new thouo-hts come 
rushing into my mind unbidden, and I seem to myself like one uttering oracles. I 
am as much astonished at my own conceptions as any of my auditors ; and when the 
excitement is over, I could no more reproduce them than I could make a world." 

It was a consequence of the astonishing vehemence and fluency of his oratory, 
that no reporter could keep jjace with him. He was unable, as he said, to reproduce 
his words after the excitement of speaking was over; and these are the reasons why 
we possess only such lifeless, incompetent fragments of his speeches. 

Notwithstanding all these great and rare gifts, Prentiss was a lifelong and careful 
student of spoken style ; not for the sake of eloquence or show, but for the sake of 
actual power; for it was his belief that it was impossible to speak too well to any 
audience; and he said that an allusion to a quotation from the classics or the poets, or 
Scott, was as good in the backwoods of Mississippi as in the halls of Congress. 
Yet no sign of effort appeared when he spoke. No characteristic of his delivery 
was so prominent as its perfect ease and spontaniety. The excitement of speakino- 
raised him to an intensity of mental action that gave him unconscious command of 
the fruits of all his studies. His thoughts came orderly, though crowded into such dense 
battalions. His figures of speech were apt, true, symmetrical, and safe, however 
intricate or dangerous some of his higher flights of imagination would have been to 
any other speaker. His oratory was probably as nearly an example of the workino- 
of a mind unfettered by corporeal limitations as it is possible for humanity to 
furnish. 

As a politican he was pure, unselfish, devoted; and especially in his latter years, 
when, indeed, he almost ceased to be a party-man at all, he was eminently statesman- 
like and philosophical in the broad and profound views which he entertained and 
expressed of the principles and practice of our government. During all his political 
life, however, it was a marked trait in his character that he considered and discussed 



620 PUBLIC AND PRIVATE CHARACTER. 

all subjects mainly on a basis of principle ; instead of stooping to the systematic 
personalities, temporary and dishonest sophistries, and sideling perversions which are 
the armory of some politicians. In politics, as everywhere, he was brave, noble, true- 
hearted ; and never shrank from the responsibility of denouncing any mean or wicked 
thing, however great or numerous its authors or abettors. 

The picture which a competent hand might draw of his character as a private cit- 
izen — as son, brother, husband, father, friend, social companion, generous ben- 
efactor — though more subdued in tone, and containing some sad, dark shades, would 
be filled with a tenderer and more lovely light, with more manifold and attractive 
beauties than belong to the strong, bright lines of his portrait as a public man. He 
loved most dearly his mother, his brothers and sisters; aided them with money, and, 
what was far more irksome to him, maintained a remarkably full correspondence with 
them, even in the thick of a tremendous pressure of business, or of a mad political 
campaign. 

The society of women he long avoided, as he said himself, from a sense of what 
the strength of his love would be, and a fear of the risks of bestowing so much and 
so controlling a portion of his life ; and partly from an apprehension not altogether 
unnatural, but mistaken, that his personal infirmity would render him an object of 
jest or disgust to them. He married, however, in 1841, in the midst of the darkest 
period of his financial troubles, a noble and loving woman, whose tender care and 
holy influence were an unfailing happiness and blessing to the hour of his death. 

His affection for his friends was entire, unselfish, enthusiastic, chivalrous; his 
benevolence to the poor or the helpless was almost ideal ; he was unsuspecting, for- 
giving, true, unaffected, modest. He was perfectly sincere in wondering at the ef- 
fect of his own speaking ; and often overvalued in others powers far inferior to his 
own. He was always fond of children, and Avith the unerring instincts of their age, 
they always liked him. He was stainlessly honorable, and despised and hated what- 
ever was mean and base, with fiery and consuming hatred. He was both physically 
and morally brave, fearing not the face of man, nor ever hesitating to say what he 
thought right, in whatever presence; and that in a period when every man wore 
arms, and insult, real or fancied, was customarily avenged by murder. And yet he 
was ever kind, beautifully perfect in true heartfelt politeness, and singularly cautious 
of repeating anything which might injure another. He was patient and humble un- 
der deserved reproof, reverential to the old, courteous to all. 

I have purposely avoided mentioning the defects in Prentiss's character, except by 
one or two slight references. This was not because they ought to be omitted. The 



THE FAILINGS OF A GREAT MAN. 621 

biographer who omits the dark side of his portrait not only foists upon his readers 
falsehood for truth, but destroys the whole usefulness of his own labor. Every life is 
a lesson either of warning or example; and if a perfect figure of excellence is held 
up for imitation, flat discouragement, instead of emulous endeavor to equal, extin- 
guishes the zeal of the student. 

I chose rather to group together the failings of the great man of whom I have 
spoken, here at the close of my summary of his character. 

This wonderful man, so vast and fruitful in intellect, so noble in capacities of mind, 
so gifted with rare bodily powers, the needful vehicles and instruments of his 
thoughts ; able to gain the loftiest eminence in any department of human exertion 
where the noblest of our mental powers are employed; able to turn and wield the 
passions and beliefs of multitudes at his will, as one guides a docile child; endowed 
with a soul and mind fitted to accomplish so much, and with a body fitted to main- 
tain their vastest activity so long ; so misused his gifts that all that marvelously com- 
pacted frame failed, was wasted and broken, in the very golden prime of his days; 
precisely at the time when they should possess their fullest and most enduring 
strength. His own sad errors carried him through a weary term of years of sick- 
ness, debt, and grinding, fatal labor, down to a grave that received him at forty-two 
years of age. 

All these errors may be traced to a single central cause. With all his lofty con- 
ceptions, all his reverence for what was holy, and good, and beautiful, all his admira- 
tion for the right and hatred for the wrong, his loftiest ideal was a sense of honor. 
He had not even a controlling sense of duty ; and still less did the guardian concep- 
tion either of that rigid virtue which has been the preserver of so many austerely 
moral, pagan, and christian men, or of that lofty rule of right which is the practical 
summary of the faith of our Lord, preside over his plans of life. To him, the 
present world was a gay and joyous scene upon which he rejoiced, with all the effer- 
vescing, brilliant joy of overflowing, active strength, to display the wondrous powers 
of his many-sided mind. His activity was not that of exertion. He never exerted 
himself. He executed what would have been gigantic labors for other men, with an 
almost divine ease, and natural, graceful absence of effort. His mind evolved reason- 
ings and illustrations, and his wonderful memory poured forth endless stores of prose 
and rhyme, not because he strove to have it so, but because he could not help it. 
He did not labor to speak — it would have been an effort not to speak. In like man- 
ner was it with whatever else he did ; all was the free, joyful spontaniety of perfect 
powers of mind and body. 



622 The I^ailings of a great Man. 

Thus destitute of a sense of responsibility, he was the toy of impulse; and the 
very ease and kindness with which he yielded to the requests of others — beautiful ex- 
ceedingly in itself — became utter folly in its unlimited consents, and shipwrecked 
him at last, despite health and strength that long seemed impregnable to the assaults 
of labor or dissipation. 

His very kindliness, thus immoderate and thoughtless, was the chief cause of his 
ruin; for there was no other cause but one, — an occasional craving for the unhal- 
lowed excitements of drink or gaming. 

And had he but acted under the calm and steady guidance of even a lofty ethical 
ideal — much more had a feeling of his supreme duty to God and man, been the rule 
of his actions — doubtless he would have reached advanced age and dwelt in the mag- 
nificent zenith of a fame as wide as civilization. 

He was invited to the wasting miscalled pleasures of the table ; his iron constitu- 
tion and strong brain could resist floods of liquor that would ten times over have 
drowned other men in helpless drunkenness; and so he drank; and while his wit and 
fun, and all the rich treasures of mind and soul were poured forth as freely in con- 
versation as even before the vastest public assembly, he was unconsciously, but surely, 
preparing that terrible ruin of the organs of digestion, which was the chief and 
central ailment of his latter days. 

He was asked to gamble, and commanding great revenues from his profession, 
careless of money with a wholly incredible carelessness, he bet and gamed away great 
fortunes, wasting whole nights and days, throwing away treasures which might have 
made him happy, not merely as wealth, but as means of giving happiness to others; 
and thus he wove in advance the dreadful nets of poverty and cruel indebtedness, and 
overladen, hopeless toil, which clouded darkly the sad descending years, already made 
sorrowful enough by his failing strength. 

He was asked to lend money, to give money, to stand as security for friends. He 
was free of heart and hand; careless of wealth, affectionate, benevolent, generous. 
And so he gave, and lent, and engaged himself for them, without stint or limit. His 
bountiful intention was beautiful ; but to allow himself to be carried into unintelli- 
gent, indiscriminate profuseness, was folly, and in after-years he reaped from it fol- 
ly's bitter fruits. 

Careless and free-hearted, unsuspecting, impulsive, he suffered himself to be sur- 
rounded by a gang of parasites, men of gentlemanly exterior enough, and professing 
to be his friends and admirers, but who constantly plucked him by borrowing, and 
by confederated plans of swindling in play. 



*HE LESSON OF HiS LIFE. 62^ 

Small faults these, in a character so grand and rich in all that makes men beloved, 
and powerful, and useful. It may be so. Yet if they were small, which they were 
not, they were the leaks which foundered the ship ; the cracks that let the edifice 
crumble into ruin. What fault is small that brings destruction with it? 

It would be harshly untrue to say that Prentiss wholly abused his gifts. He did 
much good; but his reckless squandering of the countless and inestimable treasures 
of health and strength which should have kept him living and joyful, a power and a 
pride amongst his countrymen for long years — such foolish unthrift as that was fear- 
fully wrong. 

In considering Prentiss's life, we feel first an emotion of wondering admiration at 
the good works he did, and then a still stronger emotion of wondering grief for those 
he did not do, and for the positive evil he wrought. Many men have there been, 
who, with no jot of the splendor of his intellect, with only an infinitesimal proportion 
of his vast executive powers, have achieved labors of incomparably greater benefit to 
man; have secured a fame far more permanent and unspotted; and it would be no 
reply to plead that Prentiss was cut off in the midst of his days. That is precisely 
his fault. He ou^ht not to have sinned to his own death. His misfortunes and his 
fault were one and the same. 

His biography is an inspiriting and gorgeous romance, but with a most saddening 
close. It is melancholy to see, amidst so much that is magnificent, so little that is to 
be imitated. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 



ALL SOETS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN. 



THE GUILD OF STAGE-DRIVERS. THE NATIONAL ROAD. STAGE-LINES. TAVERN-KEEPERS. 

"YOU MUST BE POWERFUL DIRTY." THE KEEL-BOATMEN. THEIR EVOLUTION, CHARACTER, 

MARKSMANSHIP, CODE OF HONOR. THE FIRST STEAMBOAT. STEAMBOAT VOYAGING ON THE 

MISSISSIPPI. RACING. WOODING. STEAMBOAT PASSENGERS. SOME PEN-PICTURES. 

JOHNNY APPLESEED. A STRANGE FIGURE IN THE WILDERNESS. LIFE IN KENTUCKY FIFTY 

YEARS AGO. 

THE forerunners of the stage-drivers and wagoners were the pack-mule trains 
which for a number of years bore over the Alleghanies the supphes used in 
the new settlements of the West. But, in 1810, the Cumberland, or National road, 
from Baltimore to the Ohio, via Cumberland and Wheeling, began to be built, and 
in a few years became the nation's main highway to the West. 

The stage-coaches were not all, however, that gave animation to the National road. 
Long lines of white-topped Conestoga wagons, each drawn by six powerful horses, 
and carrying between five and six tons of freight, were scattered over it so thickly as 
almost to form a procession from the banks of the Ohio to Baltimore. They car- 
ried wool, hides, grain, provisions, and other crude products of a new country, and 
returned dry-goods, notions, and groceries. There were taverns every five or six miles, 
for the accommodation of the wagoners and travelers, where excellent fare was pro- 
vided at reasonable rates ; but in summer, the former often preferred to camp out. 
Several wagons would be "bunched" at places where water was plentiful, called 
"wagon-stands." A fire was built, at which the evening meal was prepared; the 
horses were out-spanned, and fed from long boxes which dangled from the rear axles 
while on the road, and at feeding-times were taken down and tied to the wagon-poles. 
After supper the teamsters, wrapped in their blankets, lay down in the wagons, and 
the camp slumbered without guard until morning. 

As an illustration of the character of the stage-driver of the period, take the fol- 
lowing: A prince of the royal house of Germany, who afterwards became king, a 
man of wide and thorough education, especially in all branches of science, with a 
passion for botany, geology, and kindred branches, once stopped at a wayside inn, 

624 



THE PRINCE AND THE STAGE-DRIVER. 



625 



somewhere in the Alleghanies, and after an exploration of some days, wishing to re- 
sume his journey to Pittsburgh, engaged a place in the coach. Seated in the gallery 
of the hostelry, he awaited its arrival. It came to the door, with four fine prancing 
horses, the Jehu on his box, ribbons and whip in hand, and his Royal Highness saw 




OVER THE NATIONAL ROAD. 

THE FORERUNNER OF THE STAGE-COACH A^JD RAIL- 
WAY TRAIN. 



that he was to be the only passenger. "Are 
you the man that's gwine by the stage?" 
yelled the driver. "I am," mildly answered 
the prince. "Pile in, then, quick," returned 
the other, "for I'm the gentleman that's 
gwine to drive you." 
It was sometimes suspected, and not without good reason, that there was an un- 
derstanding between the stage-drivers and the landlords to cheat the passengers out 
of a good meal. It often happened, that just as the travelers were beginning to dis- 
40 



626 



DETERMINED TO SECURE A SQUARE MEAL. 



CUSS the viands on the table, the coach would drive up, the driver shouting, "all 
aboard," and the landlord would blandly inform his guests, as he collected the money 
from each, that there was no time to lose if they were going by that stage, and so 
the hungry wayfarers were compelled to hurry off with only a taste of breakfast or 
dinner. I knew of one old traveler who carried a capacious gripsack into the din- 
ing room, and when the call was given filled it with bread, chickens, and whatever 
he could lay hands on, and so furnished himself with a substantial lunch. I knew of 
another, who sat quietly eating his dinner while the other passengers rushed off in 




SCENE ON THE WILDERNESS ROAD OF A RECENT PERIOD. 



obedience to the summons, followed by the landlord and the waiters, leaving him in 
possession of the dining-room. He instantly gathered up all the spoons, knives and 
forks on the table, except those he was using, and secreted them in a closet, and then 
resuming his seat, went on with the discussion of his dinner. The landlord return- 
ing, pleased with his little trick, said: "And so you are going to wait for to-morrow's 
stage!" And then noticed the absence of the table furniture. "Bless my soul," he 
cried, "one of them passengers must have stole all the spoons, knives and forks." 
"Tom," he shouted to one of his boys, "mount and ride for your life after the stage, 



A COOL PASSENGER. 627 

and tell the driver to come right back till we catch the thief." The order was obeyed, 
and after some time the stage was again before the door and the irate landlord was 
beginning to search for the missing articles, when the cool passenger who had fin- 
ished his dinner in comfort, came out picking his teeth, and as he got into the stage, 
said: "Landlord, I reckon you will find your cutlery in the closet in the dining-room. 
After this give passengers a chance to eat their dinner, or a worse thing may befall 
you." 

Here is one of Mr. Lincoln's stories: 

"When I was living at the American House, in Springfield, the stage brought a 
full load of passengers one evening, who hurried to the dining-room where supper 
was on the table. One lean, lank fellow laid about him to right and left, gathering 
up all the dishes he could lay hold of, and calling to the waiters to bring him this, 
that, and the other, and ate twice as long, and much, as any one else at the table. 
When he had finished he came into the ofiice, where a lot of us were sitting, and said: 
'Landlord, that was a capital supper; I never had a better one; what is the damage?' 
'Fifty cents,' said the landlord. Gathering up his coat-tails, and turning round so as 
to present a good target, the fellow exclaimed: 'Take it out in kicking; I haven't a 
copper.' We all shouted at the rascal's coolness, and he went off scot-free." 

Here's another specimen of a cool passenger, who had eaten several times as much 
as any one else at the board, and with great complacency faced the landlord with : 
"How much for that dinner?" "Seventy-five cents," said mine host. "Just charge it 
to me" said the other. "I keep no books, and make no accounts; everj^thing is cash 
down," said Boniface. "Turn over a new leaf," said the guest, "buy a set of books, 
employ a young man to keep them, and make mine the first account." "Hand over 
the money," said the irritated landlord, and produced a pistol. "Bless us !" cried the 
other, "what's that?" "That, sir," shouted the landlord, "is a pistol, and if you don't 
pay for your dinner, I'll blow a hole through you." "Blaze away with your old pop- 
o-un, I don't care a tuppence for it," answered the guest; "but you scared me almost 
out of my life, for I thought it was a stomach-pump, and that you would get my 
dinner away from me." 

It was a lively and picturesque scene when the trains of the Baltimore and Ohio 
reached Cumberland. At the close of a session of Congress, when the Senators and 
members from the West and Southwest were on their way home — parties of nine having 
been made up on the train — such illustrious persons as Henry Clay, the Honorable Jus- 
tice M'Lean, of the Supreme Court, and others of that ilk, might be seen springing 



628 



THE WAYSIDE TAVERN. 



from the train before it stopped, and running as if for life to the stage office to se- 
cure coaches for their parties, in which they were to be cramped for eight and forty 
hours, the men on the middle and front seats so wedged in that the ownership of 
legs became a vexed question. 

These stages and wagons, from 1800 to 1838 — when the railroad began to super- 
sede them — were familiar objects on all main thoroughfares of the West and South, 
their drivers forming a powerful and widely extended guild. They made necessary 




THE TAVERN. 



also another familiar class — the tavern-keepers. Wayside taverns were quite numer- 
ous in the valley in the days of my boyhood and were generally of the most prim- 
itive sort. A huge cross-piece like a gibbet stood before the door — the usual inn-sign 
and hitching-post of the country — and though an apt hint typifying death, it was not 
happy in denoting the particular kind of destruction that menaced the traveler. I 
recall an Illinois Boniface, who catered to both classes of the public — those with well- 
filled wallets, and those with slender purses, for whom he had this "notis" posted at 



A FASTIDIOUS ENGLISHMAN. 629 

his door: "Wheat-bread and chicken fixins, four bits; corn-bread and common doins 
two ditto." 

Every county seat was provided with two or more of these inns, which prided 
themselves on being several degrees higher in the social scale than the cross-road 
taverns. The proprietors were jolly good fellows, or, perhaps, some staid lady in 
black dress and blue cap, who had seen better fortune. "Court" days were the 
grand occasions with them. 

Every preparation was made for the judge and lawyers. Beds were aired, and 
the bugs hunted out. Saturday previous to the coming Monday was a busy day set- 
ting all things to rights, and the scrubbing-broom was heard in consonance with 
calls to the servants to be busy and careful, as Sally and Nancy sprang to with a will. 
With garments tucked to their knees, they splashed the water and suds over the 
floors, strangers for months to the cleansing elements. A supply of corn and fod- 
der was brought in from the country. Stables and stable-lots were thoroughly 
cleansed. The room appropriated to the bench and bar was a great vagabond hall, 
denominated ball-room, and used in that way once or twice a year. Along the bare 
walls of this dormitory were arranged beds, each occupied by a couple of limbs of the 
law, and sometimes by three. If there was not a spare apartment, a bed was pro- 
vided here for the judge. And if there were no lawj^ers from the capital, this one 
was distinguished by the greatest mountain of feathers in the house. Here assem- 
bled at night the rollicking members of the bar, and indulged without restraint the 
convivialities for w^hich they were celebrated. Humor and wit in anecdote and rep- 
artee beguiled the hours. The few old taverns left, could they speak, might nar- 
rate more good thing's than are recorded in the ISfoctes Ambroaianm. 

In the early days of Illinois, a distinguished English traveler put up at a log-cabin 
hotel, in what was then a squalid village, but is now a flourishing city. The land- 
lord was a type of the backwoods Boniface. The guest insisted upon having a room 
to himself, a point stoutly contested by his host, but at last yielded. Looking 
around the bare apartment, the traveler said, "Landlord, I see no basin here." 
"Basin," said the host, "Can't you go to the well and wash like other decent peo- 
ple? If that won't do, there's a tin basin on the bench by the back door where the 
dandies wash themselves," The stranger insisting, the landlord went to a store and 
bought a basin, and setting it down with a thump on the table, said, "I hope you're 
satisfied now." "But where is the pitcher" asked the guest. "I must have a 
pitcher." "Pitcher" said the other, "Can't you go and fill the basin at the well?" 



630 "you MUST be powerful dirty." 

**No," said the other, •'! must have a pitcher." The irritated landlord bought a 
pitcher. "Where are the towels?" said the traveler. "There's a towel on the rol- 
ler of the back door, an' people as good as vou are, use it every day." The English- 
man would have the towels. The landlord made a third journey to the store, bought 
a yard of domestic muslin, and returning, threw it down on the table, and growled 
out, "I suppose you'd like me to wipe you now, wouldn't you?" 

A friend of mine, stopping over night at a tavern of the same kind in the back part 
of Missouri, in the morning asked the host for a basin and water for washing. "Ain't 
got no basin," said the good man of the house. "But I must wash," said my friend. 
"All right, "said the host. "Come to the well, and I'll pour for you." To the well-side 
they went ; a bucket of water was drawn ; a gourd filled ; its contents poured into the 
hands of the guest, and applied to his face, neck, and head, and he was then obliged 
to use his own handkerchief as a towel. "Do you do that every day?" said the 
host. "Yes," answered the other, "Several times a day." "You must be pow- 
erful dirty," said the other, "Or else you're a mighty sight of trouble to yourself." 

An English sportsman, who was lodging at a town on the prairies in the prairie- 
chicken season to enjoy the game, -was delighted one morning to find there had been 
a heavy fall of snow over night. After breakfast, he said to the landlord, "Have 
you a sleigh? I should like to drive." "All right," said the host. "You shall have 
it," and shouted to the hostler at the stable, "Jack, hitch up the best sleigh, and 
put in a couple of buffaloes" (meaning, of course, robes). "Bless me," cried the 
Briton, "I'm considered a capital whip, landlord, with horses, but, excuse me, I 
never drove buffaloes, and would rather not begin now." 



THE KEEL-BOATMEN. 

The navigation of the Avestern water-courses developed a type of character as pe- 
culiar and remarkable as the rivers themselves. When the long and deadly wrestle 
between the aborigines and the invading whites was terminated by the triumph of 
the latter, many a scout and Indian-fighter found himself without occupation. Like 
the Indian and the buffalo, a life of wild freedom and adventure was necessary to 
him ; he could not, like the farmer and his patient ox, bend his neck to the yoke of 
systematic, drudging toil. Some repairing to theEocky Mountains, became hunters 
for the fur companies; others found outlet for their energies in a new vocation 
which the rising trade of new countries developed The fabrics of civilization could 
be introduced into the great West only by trains of loaded mules across the Alle- 



THE KEEL-BOAT. 



631 



ghanies, or by keel-boats ascending the river from New Orleans. The labor of 
urging a freighted barge against a rapid current fifteen hundred or two thousand 
miles, exposed to all the vicissitudes of weather, subject to every species of privation 
and hardship, required, it may well be supposed, a brood of giants. In describing 
them, I will draw from the graphic pen of my friend. Col. T. B. Thorpe, to whom 
the public is indebted for many of the most truthful and lifelike pictures of western 
habits, character and humor ever published : 

"The keel-boat was 
very long and narrow, 
sharp at the bow and 
stern, and of light 
draft. From fifteen 
to twenty hands were 
required to propel it. 
The crew, divided 
equally on each side, 
took their places up- 
on the walking-boards 
extending along the 
whole length of the 
craft, and, setting 
one end of their pole 
in the bottom of 
the river, the other 
was brought to the 
shoulder, and with 
the body bent for- 
ward, they walked 
the boat against the 
formidable current. 

"It is not strange 
that the keel-boat- 
men, always exercising in the open air, without an idea of the dependence of 
the laborer in their minds, armed constantly with the deadly rifle, and feeling as- 
sured that their strong arms and sure aim would anywhere gain them a liveli- 
hood, should have become, physically, the most powerful of men, and that their 
minds, often naturally of the highest order, should have elaborated ideas character- 




THE KEEL-BOAT AND BOATMEN. 



632 THE CHALLENGE. 

istic of the extraordinary scenes and associations with which they were surrounded. 
Their professional pride lay in ascending *rapids;' this effort of human strength to 
overcome obstacles was considered by them worthy of their prowess. The slightest 
error exposed the craft to be thrown across the current, or to be brought sidewise in 
contact with rocks or other obstructions, which would inevitably destroy it. The 
hero vaunted that his boat never swung in the swift current, and never backed from 
a shute.' 

"Their chief amusements were 'rough frolics,' dancing, fiddling, and fist-fights. 
The incredible strength of their pectoral muscles, growing out of their peculiar labor 
and manner of life, made fights with them a direful necessity — it was an appetite, 
and, like pressing hunger, had to be appeased. The keel-boatman who boasted that 
he had never been whipped, stood upon a dangerous eminence, for every aspirant to 
fame was bound to dispute his claim to such a distinction. Occasionally, at some 
temporary landing-place, a number accidentally came together for a night. From 
the extreme labors of the day, possibly quietness reigned in the camp ; when, unex- 
pectedly, the repose would be disturbed by some restless fellow crowing forth a de- 
fiance in the manner of a game-cock; then, springing into some conspicuous place, 
and rolling up his sleeves, he would utter his challenge as follows : 

'"I'm from the Lightning Forks of Roaring Eiver. I'm all man, save what is 
wild-cat and extra lightning. I'm as hard to run against as a cypress snag. I never 
back-water. Look at me — a small specimen — harmless as an angle-worm — a remote 
circumstance, a mere yearling. Cock-a-doodle-doo. I did hold down a buffalo bull, 
and tore off his scalp with my teeth ; but I can't do it now — I'm too powerful weak, 
I am.'' 

"By this time, those within hearing would spring to their feet, and like the war- 
horse that smells the battle afar off, inflate their nostrils with expectation. The 
challeno-er o:oes on : 

"'I'm the man that, single-handed, towed the broad-horn over a sand-bar ; the 
identical infant who girdled a hickory by smiling at the bark, and if any denies it, 
let him make his will, and pay the expenses of a funeral. I'm the genuine article, 
tough as bull's hide, keen as a rifle. I can out-swim, out-swar, out-jump, out-drink, 
and keep soberer than any man at Cat-fish Bend. I'm painfully ferochus, I'm spil- 
ing for some one to whip me — if there's a creetur in this diggin' that wants to be dis- 
appointed in tryin' to do it, let him yell — whoop hurra!' 

"Rifle-shooting they brought to perfection — their deadly aim told terribly at the 
battle of New Oi'leans. As hunters, the weapon had been their companion, and they 



SOME SPECIMENS OF FINE MAEKSMANSHIP. 633 

never parted with it in their new vocation. While working at the oar or pole, it was 
always Avithin reach, and if a deer unexpectedly appeared on the banks, or a migra- 
tory bear breasted the Avaves, it was stricken down with unerrino- aim 

"By a law among themselves, they were idlers on shore, where their chief amuse- 
ment was shooting at a mark or playing severe practical jokes upon each other. 
They would with the rifle-ball, and at long distances, cut the pipe out of the hat-band 




A SHOOTING-MATCH. 



of a fellow-boatman, or unexpectedly upset a cup of whisky that might, at 'lunch- 
time,' be for the moment resting on some one's knee. A negro exciting the ire of 
one of these men, he at the distance of a hundred yards, with a rifle-ball, cut the 
offender's heel, and did this without a thought that the object of his indignation 
might be more seriously damaged by an unsteady aim. 

"Taking off a wild turkey's head with a rifle-ball, at a hundred yards distance, 
while the bird was in full flight, was not looked upon as a feat. At nightfall, they 



634 _ A JOKE THAT COST A LIFE. 

would snuff candles at fifty paces, and do it without extinguishing the light. Many of 
these men became so expert and cool, that in the heat of battle they would announce 
the place on their enenw they intended to hit, and subsequent examination would 
prove the certainty of their aim. Driving the nail, however, was their favorite 
amusement. This consisted in sinkino; a nail two-thirds of its lenofth in the center 
of a target, and then at forty paces, with a rifle-ball, driving it home to the head. 
If they quarreled among themselves and then made friends, the test that they bore 
no malice was to shoot a small object from each other's heads. Mike Fink, the best 
shot of all keel-boatmen, lost his life in one of these strange trials of friendship. He 
had had a difficulty with one of his companions, made friends, and agreed to the usual 
ceremony, to show that he bore no ill-will. The man put an apple upon his head, placed 
himself at the proper distance — Mike fired, and hit, apparently not the inanimate ob- 
ject, but the man, who fell to the ground apparently dead. Standing by was a brother 
of this victim of treachery or hazard, and, in an instant of anger, he shot Mike through 
the heart. In a few moments the supposed dead man, without a wound, recovered 
his feet. Mike had evidently, from pure wantonness, displaced the apple by shoot- 
ing between it and the skull, in the same way that he would have barked a squirrel 
from the limb of a tree. The joke, unfortunately, cost the renowned Mike his life. 
False indeed, would be the supposition that these men, lawless as they were, possessed 
a single trait of character in common with the law-defying wretches of our crowded 
cities. They committed, it is true, great excesses in the villages where their voy- 
ages terminated, and when large numbers of them were assembled together. If they 
defied the law, it was not because it was irksome, but because they never felt its re- 
straints. They had their own laws, which they imphcitly obeyed. With them fair 
play was a jewel. If the crew of a rival boat was to be attacked, only an equal num- 
ber was detached for the service; if the intruders were worsted, no one interfered for 
their relief. Whatever was placed in their care for transportation was sacred, and 
would be defended from harm, if necessary, at the sacrifice of their lives. They 
would, from mere recklessness, pilfer the out-buildings of a farm-house, yet they 
could be intrusted with uncounted sums of money, and if anything in their possession 
became damaged or lost, they made restitution to the last farthing. In difficulties 
between others, they invariably espoused the cause of the weaker party, and took up 
the quarrels of the aged, whether right or wrong. 

"As an illustration of their rude code of honor, is remembered the story of 'Bill 
M'Coy.' He was a master-spirit, and had successfully disputed for championship 



HOW BILL M'COY REDEEMED HIS PLEDGE. 635 

upon almost every famous sand-bar visible at low water. In a terrible row, where 
blood had been spilled, and a dark crime committed, Bill was involved. Momentarily 

off his guard, he fell into the clutches of the law. The community was excited a 

victim was demanded to appease the oft-insulted majesty of justice. Brought before 
one of the courts 'holding' at Natchez, then just closing its session for the summer 
vacation, he was fully committed, and nothing but the procurement of enormous bail 
would keep him from sweltering through the long months of summer in durance vile. 
It was apparently useless for him to expect any one to go bail for him ; he appealed, 
however, to those present, dwelt upon the horrors, to him more especially, of a lono- 
imprisonment, and solemnly asseverated that he would present himself at the time 
appointed for trial. 

"At the last. Col. W. — a wealthy, and on the whole, rather a cautious citizen, 
came to the rescue, and agreed to pay ten thousand dollars if M'Coy did not present 
himself to stand his trial. It was in vain the colonel's friends tried to persuade him 
not to take the responsibility; even the court's suggestion to let the matter alone 
was unheeded. M'Coy was released — shouldering his rifle, and threading his way 
through the Indian Nation, in due time he reached his home, in 'Old Kaintuck.' 

"Months rolled on, and the time of trial approached. As a matter of course, the 
probabilities of M'Coy's return were discussed. The public had doubts. The colo- 
nel had not heard from him since his departure. The morning of the appointed day 
arrived, but the prisoner did not present himself. The attending crowd and the 
people of the town became excited — all except the colonel despaired— evening was 
coming on apace — the court was on the point of adjourning, when a distant huzza 
was heard ; it was borne on the wings of the wind, and echoed along, each moment 
growing louder and louder. Finally, the exulting cry was caught up by the hangers 
on about the seat of justice. Another moment, and M'Coy — his beard long and 
matted, his hands torn, his eyes haggard, and face sun-burnt to a degree that was 
painful to behold — rushed into the court-room, and from sheer exhaustion fell pros- 
trate upon the floor. 

"Old Col. W. embraced him as he would have done a long-lost brother, and eyes 
unused to tears filled to overflowing when M'Coy related his simple tale. Starting 
from Louisville as a 'hand on a flat-boat,' he found in a few days that, owing to the 
low stage of water in the river, and the other unexpected delays, it was impossible 
for him to reach Natchez at the appointed time by such a mode of conveyance. No 
other ordinary conveyance, in those early days, presented itself. Not to be thwarted, 



636 THE FIRST STEAMBOAT ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 

he abandoned the flat, and, with his own hands, shaped a canoe out of the trunk of 
a fallen tree. He had rowed and paddled, almost without cessation, thirteen hundred 
miles, and had thus redeemed his promise almost at the expense of life. His trial 
in its progress became a mere form ; his chivalrous conduct and the want of any 
positive testimony won for him a verdict of not guilty, even before it was announced 
by the jury or affirmed by the judge. 

"Many years ago, the Mississippi, from an unusual drought, shrunk within its banks 
to a comparatively small stream, and, as a consequence, under the protection of a 
high bank, nearly opposite the town of Baton Eouge, there was exposed the wreck 
of a small boat, the timbers of which, as far as could be ascertained, were in a good 
state of preservation. Few particularly noticed the object, because such evidences 
of destruction form one of the most familiar features of the passing scenery; yet 
there was really an interest connected with those blackened but still enduring ribs, 
for they were the remains of the first steamer that ever dashed its wheels into the 
waters of the Great West and awakened new echoes along the then silent shores of 
the Mississippi. This boat was built at Pittsburg, by Messrs. Fulton and Livingston. 
It was launched in the month of March, 1812, and landed at Natchez the following 
year, where she loaded with passengers, and proceeded to New Orleans. After run- 
ning some time in this newly established trade and meeting with a variety of mis- 
fortunes, she finally snagged, and sank into the half exposed grave which we have 
designated." 

When steam had been successfully applied to the vast inland navigation of the West, 
it was feared that the keel-boatman's occupation was gone, but no sooner had fire and 
water taken the place of the laboring oar, than these men appeared as the natural offi- 
cers of the new marine. It is not then surprising that moving accidents by flood were of 
such common occurrence, or that the recklessness of these captains and pilots has 
hurled thousands of passengers into eternity without a moment's warning. 

In the good old times, the trip from New Orleans to Pittsburg consumed a hun- 
dred and twenty-five days; now it is accomplished in forty-eight hours. The era of 
the steamboat, succeeding that of the broad-horn, was one of stirring energy and un- 
exampled prosperity. Boats fairly swarmed upon the rivers, many of them floating 
palaces, and keen competition led to low rates, and stimulated travel and commerce. 
Everybody journeyed by water when possible. Greater varieties of character could 
nowhere be met than during a week's trip on the Mississippi in those days. All the 
conditions of a first trip combined to render it a memorable journey. Your monster 



(j38 steamboat hacincJ. 

boat quivered in every part with each stroke of her engine, and the sensitiveness of 
your nerves was increased by the hoarse voices of the "scape pipes" as they per- 
formed their horrible antiphony throughout the voyage. The din of the machinery, 
however, was softened by the chorus of the negro firemen as they plied their scorch- 
ing labors before furnaces that might have answered as forges for Vulcan. If you 
succeeded in winning the favor of captain and pilots, and thus gained a seat by the 
wheel when you pleased, you could hear stories of fire and flood, of races and col- 
lisions, snagging and explosions, enough to haunt your dreams for months. Almost 
every snag and sawyer had its own catastrophe; each sand-bar and bend of the river 
had witnessed some frightful accident in which scores, perhaps hundreds, of human 
lives changed worlds. Your narrator detailed these casualties with all the relish with 
which a soldier speaks of battles, or a surgeon of operations. The monotonous 
scenery on either side of the river did not help to enliven you ; the banks were leveed at 
infinite cost, and stood eight or ten feet above the surface of the country, to save the 
plantations from annual inundation. For several hundred miles above New Orleans, 
swamps that ran parallel to the Mississippi on both sides, approached within a mile 
and often nearer. Groves of cottonwood and of cypress fringed the interminable 
morass. The scene, however, brightened as you neared a town, Avhich might have 
the good luck to be perched upon a bluff, or a "round to" at some well-ordered 
plantation, whose noble mansion with its lawn and gardens, was flanked by rows of 
white-washed cottages, called the "people's quarters." Before long, you became 
accustomed to your new life with its attendant sights and sounds, and entered into 
its excitement with zest; the boding thought of danger was forgotten, and after a 
night or two you slept as soundly as if at home, over the roaring furnaces and 
seething boilers, lulled to deeper slumbers by the lately frightful blasts of the steam- 
pipes. If another boat hove in sight, you found yourself becoming anxious that she 
should not pass you. If she gained upon your craft, all your fears about the dangers 
of racing were laid aside, and with your fellow-passengers, male and female, you 
urged your captain to do his best. Of course he answered that he never raced, — I 
never knew a Mississippi captain who did. He just wanted a little fun — "to see how 
the old thing would go with a full head on." You ran first to the deck to incite the 
firemen, and then to the hurricane deck to note the speed. The interest deepened; 
the first shot was fired, the battle was opened, and men and women were no longer 
cowards. Every sense was strained, and yet the mind and nerves were wonderfully 
calm. Side by side the boats went thundering along, and so completely had the 



''WOODING. 



639 



thought of victory taken possession of you, that you would almost as soon have been 
blown up as beaten. 

The standard daily recreation of steamboat life was "wooding." As the boat 
neared the wood-yard, the captain shouted, ' 'What kind of wood is that ?' ' The reply 
comes back, "Cord-wood." The captain, still in pursuit of information under diffi- 
culties, and desirous of learning if the fuel be dry and fit for his purpose, bawled 
out, "How long has it been cut?" "Four feet," was the prompt response. The 
captain, exceedingly vexed, next inquired, "What do you sell for?" "Cash," re- 




SILENTLY AND IN THE NIGHT THEY STOLE AWAY. 

turned the chopper, replacing the corn-cob pipe in his mouth, and smiling benignly 

"on the pile." 

Wood-yards were apparently infested with mosquitoes —I say apparently infested 
—such was the impression of all accidental sojourners; but it is a strange delusion, 
for thouo-h one may think that they fill the air, inflame the face and hands, and if of 
the Arkansas species, penetrate the flesh through the thickest boots; still upon in- 
quiring of any permanent resident if mosquitoes are numerous, the invariable answer 



640 "THE PRINCE OP DECK-HANDS." 

is, "Mosquitoes? — no. Not about here; but a little way down the river they are 
awful — there they torment alligators to death, and sting mules right through their 
hoofs." 

On a first-class steamer, there might be sixty hands engaged in the exciting physi- 
cal contest of wooding. The passengers extended themselves along the guards as 
spectators, and presented a brilliant array. The performance consisted in piling on 
the boat one hundred cords of wood in the shortest possible time. The steam-boilers 
seemed to sympathize at the sight of the fuel, and occasionally breathed forth deep 
sighs of admiration — the pilot increasing the noise by unearthly screams on the 
"alarm-whistle."' The mate of the boat, for want of something better to do, divided 
his time between exhortations of "Oh, bring them shavings along;" "Don't go to 
sleep at this frolic ; " and by swearing, of such monstrous proportions, that even good 
men were puzzled to decide whether he was really profane or simply ridiculous. The 
laborers pursued their callings with the precision of clockwork. Upon the shoulders 
of each were piled up innumerable sticks of wood, which were thus carried from the 
laud into the capacious bowels of the steamer. The "last loads" were shouldered — 
the last effort to carry the largest pile was indulged in. "Zephyr Sam," amidst the 
united cheers of the admiring spectators, propels his load, and for the thousandth 
time wins the palm of being "model darkie," "the prince of deck-hands." 

At length you gained the "coast," as the country on both sides of the river for 
one or two hundred miles above New Orleans was called, and exchanged the region 
of cotton for the sugar country. Nothing could be fairer than those green fields in 
which the genius of the summer seemed to have taken up his abode, and the palatial 
residences with their out-buildings and neat negro villages, were worthy of their sur- 
roundings. The delicate white of the orange blossom contrasted with the stately 
pride of the magnolia, and the corn-fields Avere relieved by gardens of roses. But 
sweeping round the sharj) horn of a crescent, the center of southwestern trade was 
at your feet, literally at your feet; for as from the deck of the steamer, you looked 
down upon its streets — the broad river flowed at a level so high as to be above the 
head of any man walking them, and the floods were only kept in check by a broad, 
strong levee that fronted the town. 

The St. Charles Hotel was the wonder and center of the town. All stransfers 
stopped at it, and all citizens frequented it. On its ground floor was its bar-room, 
and at ten o'clock at night you beheld it at its glory. At least a thousand men, 
speaking all languages, habited in all costumes, representing all nationalities, were 
engaged in laughing, talking, betting, quarreling, chewing, smoking, and drinking. 



'<THE OBSERVED OE ALL OBSEHVERS." 641 

A sketch of one of the habitues of this place will represent a phase of this strange 
world of life, a man with an idiosyncrasy. He followed wood-cutting as a profession, 
and wrought with exemplary zeal the six working days, hoarding every cent not re- 
quired to furnish him the most frugal fare. As his "pile" increased, he invested it 
in gold ornaments: watch-chain of massive links, shirt and sleeve buttons, shoe 




STREET IN NEW ORLEANS. 



buckles, then buttons for vest and coat, a hat-band of the precious metal, a heavy 
gold-headed cane; and, in short, wherever an ounce of it could be bestowed upon his 
person, in or out of taste, it was done. The glory of his life, his one ambition, was 
to don this curious attire — which was deposited for safe-keeping during the week in 
one of the banks — on Sunday morning, and then spend the day, "the observed of all 
41 



642 



STRANGE MINGLING OF SOCIAL LIFE. 



observers," lounging about the office or the bar-room of the St. Charles. He nevet 
drank, and rarely spoke. Mystery seemed to envelop him. No one knew whence he 
came, or the origin of his innocent whim. Old citizens assured you that year after 
year his narrow savings were measured by the increase of his ornaments, until at 
length the value of the anomalous garments came to be estimated by thousands of 
dollars. By ten o'clock Sunday night the exhibition was closed, his one day of self- 
gratification enjoyed, 
his costly wardrobe was 
returned to the bank- 
vault, and he sank back 
into the obscurity of a 
wood-chopper. 

To return to our 
steamer, from which I 
have wandered. The 
crowd of passengers 
v--^ presented a mosaic of 
our cosmopolite popu- 
lation. On the deck 
were to be seen immi- 
grants from every Eu- 
ropean nation ; in the 
cabin were strangely 
mingled all the aspects 
of social life — the aris- 
tocratic English lord 
was intruded upon by 
A HOUSE IN THE SWAMP DISTRICTS OF LOUISIANA. thc ultra soclallst ; the 

conservative bishop accepts a favor from the graceless gambler ; the wealthy planter 
is heartily amused at the simplicity of a "northern fanatic;" the farmer from about 
the arctic regions of Lake Superior, exchanges ideas and discovers consanguinity 
with a heretofore unknown person from the everglades of Florida; the frank, open- 
hearted men of the West are charmed with the business thrift of a party from "down 
East;" politicians of every stripe, and religionists of all creeds, for the time drop 
their wranglings in the admiration of lovely women, or find a neutral ground of 
sympathy in the attractions of a gorgeous sunset. 




"you darsn*t eat ham." 643 

The following may be taken as a specimen of the droll encounters which often oc- 
curred on board, affording infinite mirth to the bystanders. A sorry-looking owner 
of the human face divine, whose fortunate position as agent of the Rothschilds in 
New Orleans made amends in the eyes of Mammon worshipers for his almost de- 
formed appearance, took his seat with ostentatious complacency at the breakfast 
table the morning after the boat had started. The captain, informed of the high 
standing and long purse of his distinguished passenger, had instructed one of the 
colored waiters to show him every mark of attention. The negro asked in the most 
courteous tone, what he would have for breakfast. "Some venishun," replied the 
man of money, but in an accent not intelligible to the thick ears of Cuffie, who, sup- 
posing that a nice piece of broiled ham was the daintiest morsel, and not aware of 
the Mosaic prohibition of hog meat, presently reappeared with a slice of bacon whose 
tempting odor might have seduced a Mohammedan. As it was placed on the table 
with a flourish, the nose of the Israelite appreciated the nature of the article, and 
with offended dignity, he said: "Dat ish ham. Take it away. I want venishun." 
There sat opposite an old Kentuckian, who, embarrassed in his pecuniary affairs, had 
been making an unsuccessful attempt to negotiate a loan, and who found a solace to 
his irritated feelings in the uncomfortable plight of the millionaire. For him, there 
was no delicacy comparable with broiled ham, and sharing the vulgar prejudices 
against the Jews, he exclaimed with indignant scorn, as the servant removed the dish, 
pointing his knife at his neighbor, "No, sir, you darsn't eat ham. Your people cru- 
cified the Savior, and God has cussed you by not allowing you to touch pork." 
"Heavens," he continued, with awful solemnity, turning to a friend, "can you think 
of anything more dreadful than not being allowed to eat bacon? And yet, I reckon 
the sins of the Jews makes it only just." 

This story reminds me of one told me many years ago by Mr. J. Porter Brown, 
who was for a long while the Dragoman and Secretary of the American Legation at 
Constantinople, and who, by a request of the Sultan, accompanied a deputation of 
high officers sent by the Grand Porte to visit this country and report upon its in- 
stitutions, productions, etc. Their visit excited great interest throughout the country. 
While they were at Cincinnati, among the crowds that called upon them was a stal- 
wart Kentuckian of the finest type, who brought with him the picture of a hog he 
had raised, and which he claimed was the biggest, fattest and heaviest ever known. 
Glowing with pride over the artistic representation of his mammoth porker, he said to 
Mr. Brown, as he unrolled the canvass, "Ask them if they have any hogs like that in 



644 ^"what! no hogs, no whiskey?'* 

Turkey." Brown translated the question. The Turks looked almost with a shudder 
at the picture, and shook their heads and answered, "No, we have no swine. The 
Prophet forbids us to eat pork." When this was translated to the Kentuckian he 
exclaimed, "What! no hogs in Turkey? what on earth do they do with their corn?" 
and then, as a happy thought seized him, added, "Oh, I reckon they turn it all into 
whiskey, don't they?" When this was interpreted to them, the Turks requested Mr. 
Brown to inform their visitor that the Koran forbade the use of strong drink as well 
as of hog meat, and that they had no distilleries. "What!" thundered the Ken- 
tuckian as he rolled up his canvas in disgust and scorn, "no hogs, no whiskey? Turkey 
is no country for a civilized man to live in," and turning upon his heel, marched off 
with a sense of the immeasurable superiority of a Christian land over a Mohammedan. 

Another incident will illustrate the varieties of character to be seen upon these 
floating palaces. An eminent gentleman, holding a high place in political and social 
life, who was among the last to give up ruffled shirts and lace at the wrists (a style 
which after its abandonment b}^ gentlemen was taken up by gamblers), went on board 
a steamer followed by his body-servant, who carried a large mahogany dressing-case, 
and deposited it in the colonel's state-room. In the "social hall" of the boat was a 
party of Arkansas men, who catching sight of the mahogany box, mistaking it for a 
faro bank, and supposing the colonel with his lace, to be a faro banker, rubbed 
their hands in glee, anticipating a jolly night. After supper, the colonel took his 
station near the ladies' cabin, hoping to engage some of the pretty girls there in con- 
versation. The Arkansas men looked and waited for his coming with the box, and 
at last growing impatient, sent one of their number to wait upon him. He drew 
near, his unkempt head covered by a slouch hat, awkward person clad in home-spun, 
the legs of his trousers stuck into his boots, his hands in his pockets, and said, with 
a wink and a leer, as he edged up to the colonel, "Come on, Cap, the boys is all 
ready." "I beg your pardon," said the stately colonel. "None of your nonsense," 
answered the other. "We've got lots of money, and everybody's spoiling for the 
bank. Fetch her down, and let's begin." By this time the colonel began to under- 
stand the other's meaning, and with great dignity led the way to his state-room, 
opened the dressing-case, took out tray after tray, each filled with its delicate 
apparatus, at which Arkansas looked with a mixture of amazement and contempt. 
Turning on his heel, he exclaimed as he rejoined his companions, "Boys, we're 
fooled; he's no man, only a dratted old tooth-carpenter." 

The social hall was the forward end of the cabin, where were the bar and the 
tables for gaming. On every boat were from one to a dozen professional gamblers, 



A STRANGE FIGURE IN THE WILDERNESS. 645 

who plied their craft night and day. Thousands, sometimes tens of thousands of 
dollars were lost and won almost every trip of these boats. I have heard of men 
sitting continuously at the card-table sixty, sometimes seventy-two hours. The pro- 
fessionals only pretended to drink ; their victims imbibed unconscionable draughts, 
and many a young man rising from the game ruined, ended his life by the pistol, or 
by jumping overboard. I knew of one brilliant man, who taking his seat at the 
card-table, kept it for three days and nights, enlivening the game by all kinds of 
brilliant talk, stories, flashes of Avit and humor, bursts of unequaled eloquence, and 
at the end of the voyage went up to a famous hostelry, where he spent the livelong 
night continuing the "frolic," and the next day, to the amazement of all who knew 
the circumstances, delivered a speech, brilliant, impassioned, electrical, two hours in 
length, to ten thousand people. 

JOHNNY APPLESEED. 

I come now to mention a unique and worthy character, one whose name and good 
deeds are still perpetuated in thousands of fruit orchards scattered throughout the 
western country. A sketch of him by W. D. Haley, in Harper's Magazine, some 
twenty years ago, is so complete and satisfactory, that I present it but slightly 
abrido;ed : 

<'The first reliable trace of our modest hero finds him in the Territory of Ohio, in 
1801, with a horse load of apple seeds, which he planted in various places on and 
about the borders of Licking Creek, the first orchard thus started by him being on 
the farm of Isaac Stadden, in what is now known as Licking county. During the 
five succeeding years, although he was undoubtedly following the same strange occu- 
pation, we have no authentic account of his movements until we reach a pleasant 
spring day, in 1806, when a pioneer settler in Jefferson county, Ohio, noticed a pe- 
culiar craft with a remarkable occupant and a curious cargo, slowly dropping down 
with the current of the Ohio River. It was 'Johnny Appleseed,' by which name 
Jonathan Chapman was afterward known in every log-cabin from the Ohio Eiver to 
the northern lakes, and westward to the prairies of what are now the States of Indi- 
ana and Illinois. With two canoes lashed together, he was transporting a load of 
apple seeds to the western frontier for the purpose of creating orchards on the 
farthest verge of white settlements. With his canoes he passed down the Ohio to 
Marietta, where he entered the Muskingum, ascending the stream of that river until 
he reached the mouth of the Walhonding, or White Woman Creek, and still onward, 
up the Mohican into the region now known as Ashland and Richland counties, on 



646 



FIRST APPEARANCE ECCENTRICITIES. 



the line of the Pittsburgh and Fort Wayne Railroad. A long and toilsome voyage it 
was, as a glance at the map will show, and must have occupied a great deal of time, 
as the lonely traveler stopped at every inviting spot to plant the seeds and make his 
infant nurseries. These are the first vvell authenticated facts in the history of Jona- 
than Chapman, whose birth, there is good reason for believing, occurred in Massa- 
chusetts, in 1775. According to this, which was his own statement in one of his less 
reticent moods, he was, at the time of his appearance on Licking Creek, twenty-six 
years of age, and whether impelled in his eccentricities by some absolute misery of 
the heart which could only find relief in incessant motion, or governed by a benev- 
olent monomania, his whole after-life was 
devoted to the work of planting apple seeds 
in remote places. The seeds he gathered 
from the cider-presses of western Pennsyl- 
vania; but his canoe voyage, in 1806, ap- 
pears to have been the only occasion upon 
which he adopted that method of trans- 
porting them, as all his subsequent jour- 
neys were made on foot. Having planted 
his stock of seeds, he would return to 
Pennsylvania for a fresh supply, and as 
sacks made of any less substantial fabric 
would not endure the hard usajje of the 
long trip through forests dense with under- 
brush and briers, he provided himself with 
leathern bags. Securely packed, the seeds 
were conveyed, sometimes on a horse, 
and not infrequently on his own shoulders. 
"In personal appearance. Chapman was a small, wiry man, full of restless activity; 
he had long, dark hair, a scanty beard that was never shaved, and keen, black eyes 
that sparkled with peculiar brightness. His dress was of the oddest description. 
Generally, even in the coldest weather, he went barefooted, but sometimes, for his 
long journeys, he would make himself a rude pair of sandals ; at other times he would 
wear any cast-off foot-covering he chanced to find — a boot on one foot and an old 
brogan or a moccasin on the other. It appears to have been a matter of conscience 




'•JOHNNY APPLESEED. 



SECOND-HAND RAIMENT TOO LUXURIOUS FOR HIM. 



647 



with him never to purchase boots, although he was rarely without money to do so. 
On one occasion, in an unusually cold November, while he was traveling barefoot 
through mud and snow, a settler who happened to possess a pair of shoes that were 
too small for his own use, forced their acceptance upon Johnny, declaring that it was 
sinful for a human being to travel with naked feet in such weather. A few days 
afterward the donor was in 
the village that has since be- 
come the thriving city of 
Mansfield, and met his bene- 
ficiary contentedly plodding 
along with his feet bare and 
half frozen. With some de- 
gree of anger, he inquired for 
the cause of such foolish con- 
duct, and received for reply 
that Johnny had overtaken a 
poor barefooted family mov- 
ing westward, and as they ap- 
peared to be in much greater 
need of clothing than he was, 
he had given them the shoes. 
His dress was generally com- 
posed of cast-off clothing 
that he had taken in payment ^ 
for apple-trees ; and as the 
pioneers were far less extrav- 
agant than their descendants 
in such matters, the home- 
spun and buck-skin garments 
that they discarded would not 
be very elegant or serviceable. In his later years, however, he seems to have thought 
that even this kind of second-hand raiment was too luxurious, as his principal gar- 
ment was made of a coffee-sack, in which he cut holes for his head and arms to pass 
through, and pronounced it 'a very serviceable cloak, and as good clothing as any 
man need wear, ' In the matter of head-gear his taste was equally unique ; his first 




"THE TRIBES OF THE HEATHEN ARE BOUND ABOUT VOUR DOORS, 
AND A DEVOURING FLAME FOLLOWETH AFTER THEM." 



648 



RESPECTED ALIKE BY FRONTIERSMEN AND INDIANS. 



experiment was with a tin vessel that served to cook his mush ; but this was open to 
the objection that it did not protect his eyes from the sun, so he constructed a hat 
of paste-board with an immense peak in front, and having thus secured an article that 
combined usefulness with economy, it became his permanent fashion. 

"Thus strangely clad, he was perpetually wandering through forests and morasses 
and suddenly appearing in white settlements and Indian villages ; but there must have 

been some rare force of gentle 
goodness telling in his looks 
and breathing in his words, 
for it is the testimony of all 
who saw him, that notwith- 
standing his ridiculous attire, 



he was always treated with 
the greatest respect by the 
rudest frontiersman, and what 
is a better test, the boys of 
the settlements forbore to 
jeer at. him. With grown-up 
people and boys he was usu- 
ally reticent, but manifested 
great affection for little girls, 
always having pieces of ribbon 
and gay calico for his small 
favorites. Many a grand- 
mother in Ohio and Indiana 
can remember the presents 
she received when a child from 
poor, homeless Johnny Apple- 
seed. When he consented to 
eat with any family, he would 
never sit down at the table unless he was assured that there was an ample supply for 
the children ; and his sympathy for their youthful troubles, and his kindness toward 
them, made him friends among all the juveniles of the border. 

"The Indians also treated Johnny with the greatest respect. By these wild and 
sanguinary savages he was regarded as a 'great medicine man' on account of his 
strange appearance, eccentric actions, and especially the fortitude with which he 




"here's vouk primitive christian.' 



WARNING THE SETTLERS OF IMPENDING DANGER. 649 

could endure pain, in proof of which he would often thrust pins and needles in his 
flesh. His nervous sensibilities really seem to have been less acute than those of or- 
dinary people, for his methods of treating the cuts and sores that were the con- 
sequences of his barefooted wanderings through briers and thorns, was to sear the 
wound with a red-hot iron, and then cure the burn. During the wair of 1812, when 
the frontier settlers were tortured and slaughtered by the savages, Johnny Appleseed 
continued his wanderings, and was never harmed by the hostile bands of roving In- 
dians. On many occasions, the impunity with which he ranged the country enabled 
him to give the settlers warning of approaching danger in time to allow them to take 
refuge in their block-houses before the savages could attack them. Our informant 
refers to one of these instances when the news of Hull's surrender came like a thunder- 
bolt upon the frontier. Large bands of Indians and British were destroying every- 
thing before them, and murdering women and children, and even the block-houses 
were not sufficient protection. At this time Johnny traveled day and night, warning 
the people of the approaching danger. He visited every cabin, and delivered this 
message : 'The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, and he hath anointed me to blow the 
trumpet in the wilderness, and sound an alarm in the forest; for behold the tribes of 
the heathen are round about your doors, and a devouring flame followeth after 
them.' The aged man who narrated this incident said that he could feel even now 
the thrill that was caused by this prophetic announcement of the wild-looking herald 
of danger, who aroused the family on a bright moonlight midnight with his piercing 
voice. Refusing all offers of food, and denying himself a moment's rest, he tra- 
versed the border day and night until he had warned every settler of the approaching 
peril. 

"His diet was as meager as his clothing. He believed it to be a sin to kill any 
creature for food, and thought that all that was necessary for human sustenance was 
produced by the soil. He was also a strenuous opponent of the waste of food, and 
on one occasion w4ien approaching a log-cabin, he observed some fragmf>nts of bread 
floating upon the surface of a bucket of slops that was intended for the pigs. He 
immediately fished them out, and when the housewife expressed her astonishment, he 
told her that it was an abuse of the gifts of a merciful God to allow the smallest quan- 
tity of anything that was designed to supply the wants of mankind to be diverted 
from its purpose. 

* 'In this instance, as in his whole life, the peculiar religious ideas of Johnny Apple- 
seed were exemplified. He was a most earnest example of the faith taught by 



650 THE FIRST COLPORTEUR IN OHIO. 

Emanuel Swedenborg, and himself claimed to have frequent conversations with angels 
and spirits; two of the latter, of the feminine gender, he asserted, had revealed to 
him that they were to be his wives in a future state, if he abstained from a matri- 
monial alliance on earth. He entertained a profound reverence for the revelations of 
the Swedish seer, and always carried a few old volumes with him. These he was very 
anxious should be read by everyone, and he was probably not only the first colporteur 
in the wilderness of Ohio, but as he had no tract society to furnish him supplies, he 
certainly devised an original method of multiplying one book into a number. He 
divided his books into several pieces, leaving a portion at a log-cabin, and on a sub- 
sequent visit furnishing another fragment, and continuing this process as diligently 
as though the work had been published in serial numbers. By this plan he was en- 
abled to furnish reading for several people at the same time, and out of one book ; 
but it must have been a difficult undertaking for some nearly illiterate backwoodsman 
to endeavor to comprehend Swedenborg by a backward course of reading, when his 
first installment happened to be the last fraction of the volume. Johnny's faith in 
Swedenborg's works was so reverential as almost to be superstitious. He was once 
asked if, in traveling barefooted through forests abounding with venomous reptiles, 
he was not afraid of being bitten. With his peculiar smile, he drew his book from 
his bosom and said, 'This book is an infallible protection against all danger here 
and hereafter.' 

"It was his custom, when he had been welcomed to some hospitable log-house after 
a weary day of journeying, to lie down on the puncheon floor, and, after inquiring if 
his auditors would hear 'some news right fresh from heaven,' produce his few tat- 
tered books, among which Avould be a New Testament, and read and expound until his 
uncultivated hearers would catch the spirit and glow of his enthusiasm, while they 
scarcely comprehended his language. A lady who knew him in his later years, writes 
in the following terms of one of these domiciliary readings of poor, self-sacrificing 
Johnny Appleseed : 'We can hear him read now, just as he did that summer day 
when we were busy quilting up-stairs, and he lay near the door, his voice rising de- 
nunciatory and thrilling — strong and loud as the roar of wind and waves, then soft 
and soothing as the balmy airs that quivered the morning-glory leaves about his gray 
beard. His was a strange eloquence at times, and he was undoubtedly a man of 
genius.' What a scene is presented to our imagination ! The interior of a primitive 
cabm, the wide, open fire-place where a few sticks are burning beneath the iron pot 
jn which the evening meal is cooking; around the fire-place the attentive group, com- 



A FORERUNNER OF MR. BERGH. 651 

posed of the sturdy pioneer, and his wife and children, listening with a reverential awe 
to the 'news right fresh from heaven;' and reclining on the floor, clad in rags, but 
with his gray hairs glorified by the beams of the setting sun that flood through the 
open door and the unchinked logs of the humble building, this poor wanderer, with 
the gift of genius and eloquence, who believes with the faith of apostles and martyrs 
that God has appointed him a mission in the wilderness to preach the Gospel of love, 
and plant apple seeds that shall produce orchards for the benefit of men and women 
and little children whom he has never seen. If there is a sublimer faith or a more 
genuine eloquence in richly decorated cathedrals and under brocade vestments, it 
would be w^orth a long journey to find it. 

"Next to his advocacy of his peculiar religious ideas, his enthusiasm for the cul- 
tivation of apple trees in what he termed 'the only proper way' — that is, from the 
seed — was the absorbing object of his life. Upon this, as upon religion, he was 
eloquent in his appeals. He would describe the growing and ripening fruit as such 
a rare and beautiful gift of the Almighty, with words that became pictures, until his 
hearers could almost see its manifold forms of beauty present before them. To his 
eloquence on this subject, as well as to his actual labors in planting nurseries, the 
country over which he traveled for so many years is largely indebted for its numerous 
orchards. But he denounced as absolute wickedness all devices of pruning and 
grafting, and would speak of the act of cutting a tree as if it were a cruelty inflicted 
upon a sentient being. 

"Not only is he entitled to the fame of being the earliest colporteur on the fron- 
tiers, but in the work of protecting animals from abuse and suffering he preceded, 
while, in his smaller sphere, he equaled the good Mr. Bergh. Whenever Johnny 
saw an animal abused, or heard of it, he would purchase it and give it to some more 
humane settler, on condition that it should be kindly treated and properly cared for. 
It frequently happened that the long journey into the wilderness would cause the 
new settlers to be encumbered with lame and broken-down horses, that were turned 
loose to die. In the autumn Johnny would make a diligent search for all such ani- 
mals, and, gathering them up, he would bargain for their food and shelter until the 
next spring, when he would lead them away to some good pasture for the summer. 
If they recovered so as to be capable of working, he would never sell them, but 
would lend or give them away, stipulating for their good usage. His conception of 
the absolute sin of inflicting pain or death upon any creature was not limited to the 
higher forms of animal life, but everything that had being was to him, in the fact 



652 CONSIDERATION FOR THE RATTLESNAKE AND MOSQUITO. 

of its life, endowed with so much of the Divine Essence that to wound or destroy it 
was to inflict an injury upon some atom of Divinity. No Brahmin could be more 
concerned for the preservation of insect life, and the only occasion upon which he 
destroyed a venomous reptile was a source of long regret, to which he could never 
refer without manifesting sadness. He had selected a suitable place for planting 
apple seeds on a small prairie, and in order to prepare the ground he was mowing 
the long grass, when he was bitten by a rattlesnake. In describing the event, he 
sighed heavily, and said, 'Poor fellow, he only just touched me, when I, in the heat 
of my ungodly passion, put the heel of my scythe in him, and went away. Some- 
time afterward I went back, and there lay the poor fellow dead.' Numerous anec- 
dotes bearing upon his respect for every form of life are preserved, and form the 
staple of pioneer recollections. 

"On one occasion, a cool, autumnal night, when Johnny, who always camped out in 
preference to sleeping in a house, had built a fire near which he intended to pass the 
night, he noticed that the blaze attracted large numbers of mosquitoes, many of 
whom flew too near his fire and were burned. He immediately brought water and 
quenched the fire, accounting for his conduct afterward by saying, 'God forbid that 
I should build a fire for my comfort which should be the means of destroying any of 
His creatures.' At another time he removed the fire he had built near a hollow log, 
and slept on the snow, because he found that the log contained a bear and her cubs, 
whom, he said, he did not wish to disturb. And this unwillingness to inflict pain or 
death was equally strong when he was the sufferer by it, as the following will show. 
Johnny had been assisting some settlers to make a road through some Avoods, and in 
the course of their work they accidentally destroyed a hornet's nest. One of the 
angry insects soon found a lodgment under Johnny's coffee-sack cloak, but although 
it stung him repeatedly he removed it with the greatest gentleness. The men who 
were present laughingly asked him why he did not kill it. To which he gravely 
replied that, 'It would not be right to kill the poor thing, for it did not intend to 
hurt me.' 

"Theoretically, he was as methodical in matters of business as any merchant. In 
addition to their picturesqueness, the locations of his nurseries were all fixed with 
a view to a probable demand for the trees by the time they had attained sufiicient 
growth for transplanting. He would give them away to those who could not pay for 
them. Generally, however, he sold them for old clothing or a supply of corn-meal; 
but he preferred to receive a note, payable at some indefinite period. When thi§ 



*<HERE*S YOUR PRIMITIVE CHRISTIAN.'* 653 

was accomplished, he seemed to think that the transaction was completed in a bus- 
iness-like way, but if the giver of the note did not attend to the payment, the holder 
of it never troubled himself about its collection. His expenses for food and clothing 
were so very limited that, notwithstanding his freedom from the auri sacra fames, 
he was frequently in possession of more money than he cared to keep, and it was 
quickly disposed of for wintering infirm horses, or given to some poor family whom 
the ague or the accidents of border life impoverished. In a single instance only he 
is known to have invested his surplus means in the purchase of lands, having received 
a deed from Alexander Finley, of Mohican township, Ashland county, for a part 
of the southwest quarter of section twenty-six ; but with his customary indifference 
to matters of value, Johnny failed to record the deed, and lost it. Only a few years 
ago the property was in litigation. 

"We must not leave the reader under the impression that this man's life, so full 
of hardship and perils, was a gloomy or unhappy one. There is an element of 
human pride in all martyrdom, which, if it does not soften the pains, stimulates the 
power of endurance. Johnny's life was made serenely happy by the conviction that 
he was living like the primitive Christians. Nor was he devoid of a keen humor, to 
which he occasionally gave vent, as the following will show: Toward the latter part 
of Johnny's career in Ohio, an itinerant missionary found his way to the village 
of Mansfield, and preached to an open-air congregation. The discourse was tediously 
lengthy, and unnecessarily severe upon the sin of extravagance, which was begin- 
ning to manifest itself among the pioneers by an occasional indulgence in the carnal 
vanities of calico and 'store tea.' There was a good deal of the Pharisaic leaven 
in the preacher, who very frequently emphasized his discourse by the inquiry, 
'Where now is the man who, like the primitive Christians, is traveling to heaven 
barefooted and clad in coarse raiment?' When this interrogation had been repeated 
beyond all reasonable endurance, Johnny rose from the log on which he was reclin- 
ing, and advancing to the speaker, he placed one of his bare feet upon the stump 
which served for a pulpit, and pointing to his coffee-sack garment, he quietly said, 
'Here's your primitive Christian.' The well-clothed missionary hesitated and stam- 
mered, and dismissed his congregation. His pet antithesis was destroyed by Johnny's 
personal appearance, which was far more primitive than he cared to copy. 

"Some of the pioneers were disposed to think that Johnny's humor was the cause 
of an extensive practical joke ; but it is generally conceded now, that a wide-spread 
annoyance was really the result of his belief that the offensively odored weed 



654 RIPENED INTO DEATH AT SEVENTY-TWO YEARS OF AGE. 

known in the West as dog-fennel, but more generally styled the May-weed, pos- 
sessed valuable anti-malarial virtues. He procured some seeds of the plant in Penn- 
sylvania, and sowed them in the vicinity of every house in the region of his travels. 
The consequence was that successive flourishing crops of the weed spread over the 
whole country, and caused almost as much trouble as the disease it was intended to 
ward off; and to this day the dog-fennel, introduced by Johnny Applesecd is one 
of the worst grievances of the Ohio farmers. 

"In 1838 — thirty-seven years after his appearance on Licking Creek — Johnny 
noticed that civilization, wealth, and population were pressing into the wilderness of 
Ohio. Hitherto he had easily kept just in advance of the wave of settlement ; but 
now towns and churches were making their appearance, and even at intervals, the 
stage-driver's horn broke the silence of the grand old forests, and he felt that his 
work was done in the region in which he had labored so long. He visited every house, 
and took a solemn farewell of all the families. The little girls who had been de- 
lio-hted with his gifts of fragments of calico and ribbons, had become sober matrons, 
and the boys who had wondered at his ability to bear the pain caused by running 
needles into his flesh, were heads of families. With parting words of admonition he 
left them and turned his steps steadily toward the setting sun. 

"During the succeeding nine years he pursued his eccentric avocation on the west- 
ern border of Ohio and Indiana. In the summer of 1847, when his labors had liter- 
ally borne fruit over a hundred thousand square miles of territory, at the close of a 
warm day, after traveling twenty miles, he entered the house of a settler in Allen 
county, Indiana, and was, as usual, warmly welcomed. He declined to eat with the 
family, but accepted some bread and milk, which he partook of, sitting on the door- 
step and gazing on the setting sun. Later in the evening, he delivered his 'news 
right fresh from heaven,' by reading the Beatitudes. Declining other accomoda- 
tion, he slept, as usual, on the floor, and in the early morning he was found with his 
features all aglow with a supernal light, and his body so near death that his tongue 
refused its office. The physician, who was hastily summoned, pronounced him dy- 
ino-, but added that he had never seen a man in so placid a state at the approach of 
death. At seventy-two years of age, forty-six of which had been devoted to his self- 
imposed mission, he ripened into death as naturally and beautifully as the seeds of 
his own planting had grown into fiber, and bud, and blossom, and the matured fruit. 

"Thus died one of the memorable men of pioneer times, who never inflicted pain 
or knew an enemy — a man of strange habits, in whom there dwelt a comprehensive 



KENTUCKY LIFE AND CHARACTER EIFTY YEARS AGO. 655 

love that reached with one hand downward to the lowest forms of life, and with the 
other upward to the very throne of God. A laboring, self-denying benefactor of his 
race, homeless, solitary, and ragged, he trod the thorny earth with bare and bleeding 
feet, intent only upon making the wilderness fruitful. Now, *no man knoweth of 
his sepulcher;' but his deeds will live in the fragrance of the apple-blossoms he 
loved so well ; and the story of his life, however crudely narrated, will be a perpetual 
proof that true heroism, pure benevolence, noble virtues, and deeds that deserve im- 
mortality, may be found under meanest apparel, and far from gilded halls and tower- 
ing spires." 

KENTUCKY HOMES. 

Some pictures of Kentucky life and character fifty years ago, drawn by the clever 
hand of a young writer from the East, will show how the country had grown from 
the days of the pioneers. 

"I spent a week or ten days with a gentleman who lives about forty miles east of 
Lexington, in a brick-house of most antique cast — you might think it a second-rate 
chateau of France, rather than the domicile of a new country — a quarter of a mile 
from the road ; the main building being flanked and kept in countenance by a dozen 

log-cabins, barns, corn-houses, wood-houses, ice-houses, etc. Mrs. , the wife, 

with the aid of two pretty and well-educated daughters, keeps school for all the far- 
mers' girls of the country round. They were kind beyond measure, would not allow 
me — though I came out only to dine — to go back that night, nor the next day, nor 
for a week, and then I got away with difiiculty, and was obliged to promise a return 
for two months' residence in the spring. At the time of our arrival, the judge was 
absent riding the circuit, which is over some three or four or a dozen counties in 
the most primitive part of the State. He reached home two or three days after our 
arrival, having ridden for two days in a tremendous rain. Though born a Yankee, 
he is a good specimen of a better sort of Kentuckian, very large and strong, rough 
and fearless, with a good deal of quaint humor and fun, and at the same time a rigid 
Presbyterian. He was a Clay man to the sole of his boot, and prayed with his fam- 
ily assembled around him at evening that 'we might be pardoned the sins and 
abominations committed by our Federal head.' He spends much of his year on 
horseback, riding from log court-house to no court-house at all. The style of living 
in the judge's family was a specimen of western plenty, though he is a poor man, 
having been swindled by a Yankee friend out of some $40,000, the product of much 
labor. His house is open to any; the family numbers fourteen, and there are gen- 



656 A TYPICAL KENTUCKY COLOiSTEL. 

erally two or three guests. The table, as in olden times, almost groans with the vari- 
ous breads and cakes and condiments, a favorite dish of which I became very fond, 
being a piece of honey-comb as large as your head, eaten as you eat a roast apple, 
in a bowl of milk. Milk is the Kentuckian's beverage at all times, at breakfast, din- 
ner, and supper. You take a glass when you get up, and a glass before you go to 
bed." 

Another "call" of two weeks upon a Kentucky colonel is thus described: 
"Our horses were brought to the block, we mounted, and set off amid the shouts 
of twenty little negroes, whose hearts leaped for joy to think that *massa would be 
gone a long while,' and they escape 'mazing deal o' work.' The roads were some- 
what deep, and our leggins became very much spattered, and my own feet soaked; 
but the judge, more used to Kentucky riding, managed to cross the creeks dry-shod. 
However, it was warm, and my blood was running swiftly, and I cared not a whit for 
wet feet. The judge had a bottle of cherry-bounce, too, and that, he reckoned, 
was enough to thaw us out, had we slept twenty years under an iceberg. As we 
journeyed, the judge gave me a clew to the character of the colonel. 'He's a very 
fair specimen,' said he, 'of the noble Kentuckian, with all his faults, and all his vir- 
tues. He was born here in a log fort, brought up with a tomahawk in one hand and 
a bowl of mush and milk in the other, until he was big enough to tote a rifle, when 
he took to that. He fought the Indians while there were any to fight, and when 
they were gone, turned to and farmed. He raised stock, and still does so, and re- 
ceives ten thousand dollars for what he sends to market yearly. He was a colonel 
in our last war, and did wonders in some of the frontier skirmishes ; for his courage 
is that of a lion, and his strength too, for that matter. In high party times, when 
it was dangerous to go to the polls unarmed, Marshall did more than any man about 
to keep the rabble in order. They feared him, for if his word were not heeded, they 
knew his fist, foot, cudgel, dirk, pistol, and rifle were ready. He's a man of strong 
prejudices, and despises the Yankees; so you must mind, and not let out that 3'ou 
are one. For myself, he forgives my Yankee origin, and swears by 'Old Virginny,' 
it was a mistake. His hospitality is unbounded; cheap as living is to a planter, all 
his ten thousand a year goes to the winds in a mighty short time. In a word, he is 
rough as a bear, noble as a lion, kind and faithful as a mastiff, and withal full of that 
wisdom which comes from men, and not from books, from studying character and 
nature, and tracing for himself effects to causes." 



A TYPICAL KENTUCKY COLONEL. 657 

"We spent the night at a little inn on the road, and the next day, at about noon, 
reached the place of our destination. We entered, rusty and broken gate 

which slammed to behind us as if offended at being openedj upon a natural park. 
The greensward was short and velvety; the undulation of the surfaces, and round- 
ness of the declivities, almost, as it seemed, artificial, while the scattered clumps of 
trees beneath which the cattle and horses stood in sleepy and solemn happiness, gave 
to the scene an English air, which was scarce destroyed by the worn fences and 
droves of swine, both truly American accompaniments. Nearly a quarter of a mile 
from the road stood the mansion, half seen, half hidden by the mass of foliage which 
covered the trees and vines around it. It was a rather old-fashioned looking dom- 
icile, with large windows having very clumsy frames and small glasses or lights, 
and with a long piazza or stoop upon the north and east sides. Soon after we en- 
tered the park, we ctarted a whole covey of little woolly-headed fellows, who grinned, 
turned up their great eyes at us, and then set out for another part of the domain 
with all speed, tumbling now and then head over heels, as they rushed down the 
hill-side. The pigs, too, half wild, would start as we came near them, look up, give 
a quick, sharp, angry grunt, and scamper away, as their ancestors of the forests of 
Europe did before them. Presently, as we came near the white garden fence, we 
were brought to by a voice from the right, 'Hallo, Judge,' shouted from some one. 
'I reckon you ain't got your spectacles on, or your Yankee blood is getting the bet- 
ter of your Kentucky raising;' and as he spoke, the speaker pushed his way, his rifle 
in advance, through a mass of shrubbery on one side the path. He was a tall man, 
and stout almost to corpulency; his face was square, his mouth small, lips thin, his 
nose hooked, and from under his gray and knitted brows his eyes shone with a look 
of suspicion and defiance; his head was gray, as I saw from the long locks which iell 
upon his coat-collar, and his shirt was open. 'Ah, Colonel,' said the judge, as the 
colonel wiped his brow, 'so we've caught you playing Indian, lurking in the bushes.' 
'Playing Indian, indeed,' retorted the other. 'I reckon if I played Indian with 
you, most learned Judge, 'twill be with Ellen's shot-gun or Aunt Dinah's syringe 
and not this old deer-killer. But who's this you've got along, Judge?' 'This,' 
answered the man of law, "is a young shoot of the Buckeye bar; he came over to see 
some of the wild Kentucks, and so I brought him down to spend a week with you.' 
'He's right welcome,' and the colonel strode up and shook me fiercely by the hand, 
'he's right welcome, I say, and I reckon if he don't find us Kentucks wild as we 
were, he'll not, at any rate, think us too tame. And mind, now, you needn't 



658 ''THERE WAS NO KISS, THEN." 

knock, as I'm told they do in Cincinnati. I reckon we don't do nothing in our 
house we're afraid to have the world see.' And so saying, with long and rapid 
strides, the Kentuckian took his way to the wood. We jogged on to the door, threw 
our reins to an old negro who stood ready to receive them, and who took off his 
remnant of a hat to the judge with an unutterable grin, and walked into the house 
without knocking. My friend had told me that the colonel's wife was dead, and 
that he had but a single daughter, Ellen, upon whom he had not, however, ex- 
patiated, and I expected to find a very ordinary maiden. What then was my sur- 
prise, when, having thrown our saddle-bags into a corner, hung up our overcoats 
and hats, disposed of our leggins and walked into the parlor, I saw through a win- 
dow which looked out to the west, a girl of eighteen, dancing along the grass-plat, 
her straw-bonnet hanging upon her shoulders, her light shawl wrapped around one 
arm, her dark hair swaying with the motion, and a face, form, and complexion, 
which somehow went direct to my heart, or rather to the place where my heart 
should have been, for it had been absent sometime. She evidently did not know any 
strangers had come, and, singing as she ran and skipped along, was at a back door 
before I could say a word to my comrade. Seeing us, she stopped, blushed, and 
then recognizing the judge, sprang past me, grasped his hand, welcomed him warmly, 
and then, bless me! kissed him. I drew my breath as one does when he steps into a 
bath of cold water. She turned to me, the judge introduced us, and with a mingled 
delicacy and freedom of bearing she took my hand and bade me welcome. But 
there was no kiss, then — in truth, I did not expect one. 'Did you see my father?' 
*Yes, he met us in the path, rifle in hand.' 

'Was there a young man with him?' 

'No, is there one staying here?' 

'There is — a young man from your own Yankee land. Mr. Clay gave him letters 
to father.' 

'A Yankee. Why is he here? I should think your father would be afraid to 
have him in the house.' 

'He is, and plagues poor Ned most to death. He's been here for a month past. 
I don't know what for, I'm sure, but I reckon he wants to write a book about us, for 
he's always in his room scribbling like a mad-man. But I must see to your rooms 
and your dinner, and tell Job to turn your horses out. Where is your baggage? or, 
I suppose, as a Kentucky girl, I should say plunder.' 'In the entry.' 'Well, good-by, 
till dinner time. And so Julia is married, is she? How funny it seems. Does she 
look much older?' Then turning to me with that same kind smile again, she said, 



OLD KENTUCKY HOSPlTALlTr. 659 

pointing to a book case: 'If you should wish to read, sir, we have a few volumes — 
not written in Cherokee, either. I have some in my room besides, and if you're not 
as afraid of a lady's boudoir as Ned Vaughan is, come and I'll show you the way to 
my castle,' and away she went as light and rapid as if innocence and health had 
clothed her with unseen wings. She took me to her room, a little attic crowded with 
books, and pictures, and flowers, and needle-work, upon which the sun-light played fit- 
fully, falling through a curtain of leaves, and bidding me consider it all my prop- 
erty, 'except the needle-work,' said she, 'when you want to be alone,' — away she 
bounded, leaving me standing in her boudoir, in a happy maze of wonder, admira- 
tion, and let me see, I think the proper word is — respect. I tooK up a book which 
lay open upon the table, and started to find it was an English edition of Coleridge's 
'Friend,' the margin crowded with pencil writing, and Ellen Marshall's name upon 
the title page. To find in the wilds of Kentucky, a woman who could con amove 
read Coleridge, took me by surprise, and I never so envied the philosopher of High- 
gate Hill as at that moment. By its side was a volume containing translations of 
several of Schiller's plays; below this was Madame de Stael's 'Germany,' then 
Spencer's 'Faerie Queen,' and I cannot say what else, for the rush of thought into 
my head made it swim. 

"To give the particulars of our sojourn at Echo Vale (for so the estate is named), 
would take too much time and paper; and I will merely sketch, as I can, the scene of 
the day before our intended departure. It was Ellen's birthday, and the house was 
thrown open to all friends and strangers. 

"The eventful day came clothed in beauty. Nature herself seemed to consider it a 
kind of Sabbath ; at least in our eyes it appeared so. The negroes, headed by a ven- 
erable piece of ebony from Virginia, awoke us with music and dancing; and to the 
sound of the banjo and fiddle, sang most uncouth songs under fair Ellen's window. 
The forenoon was passed by some in shooting at a mark, by others in wrestling, 
jumping, running, swinging, or lounging, and of the last I presume a Kentuckian can 
do as much in a little time as any man in the world — that is, if he has leisure. The 
colonel and his daughter were busy preparing dinner. At one o'clock we dined. Of 
the dinner I will attempt no description, for I have no time to say what we had not, 
much less what we had. A vast deal was eaten and no little drank. At three the 
feast was over, and a more uproarious set of mortals than came forth into the lawn, 
it would be hard to find. A grand horseback ride, with whoop and halloo, over 
the hills, completed the day." 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



A LOOK BACKWAKD AND A GLANCE FORWAED. 



KEMOVAL FROM PHILADELPHIA TO ILLINOIS. FIRST VISION AND IMPRESSION OF THE PRAI- 
RIES. JACKSONVILLE, ILLINOIS, DESCRIBED. CHARACTER OF ITS EARLY SETTLERS. 

WORDS OF "CURRENT COIN." THE FORUM. ANECDOTES OF LINCOLN, DOUGLAS, BUTTER- 
FIELD, PALMER. THE CAMPAIGN OF 1840. CHICAGO IN 1846. ITS AMBITION, ENERGY, 

FAITH IN ITS GREAT FUTURE. ITS RAPID GROWTH. NOTABLE EVENTS IN ITS HISTORY. 

THE GREAT VALLEY OF TO-DAY. ITS BOUNDLESS RESOURCES. EDUCATIONAL ADVANTAGES. 

BRIGHT FUTURE, 

IN my fifteenth year my father and his family removed from Philadelphia to Illi- 
nois, which was then the far West, for only a few scattered settlements had been 
made between the Great River and the Pacific Ocean. It was the middle of May, 1838. 
Our fortunes had been wrecked in the financial crash of the 3^ear before, and like so 
many others, we set out to find a new home and begin the world afresh. Our losses 
had been great, our gains were yet greater ; the first of money and comfort — the last 
in opportunity and discipline. No one can fully state the advantage, especially to the 
young, of growing up in a new country, and being thrown upon one's own resources. 
A return to primitive nature is good for us all, and the Greek fable of Antaeus, that 
man is invincible so long as he has firm footing on the earth, has truth in it to-day. 
The frontier has been the school-house of American character; the richest blood 
and firmest nerve of our great cities, and, indeed, of our national life, are drawn from 
the farm, the mountain, the prairie, and the wilderness. 

Our journey from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh took about five days and nights ; an 
all-day ride by rail to Harrisburg, two days and a half on the canal-boat to Holli- 
daysburg, a day in crossing the mountain on cars drawn up inclined planes by sta- 
tionary engines, and then let down on the other side to Johnstown, and thence by 
canal-boat again to the site of old Fort Duquesne, at the junction of the Alleghany 
and Monongahela Rivers. Here a steamboat received us, and we floated down the 
beautiful river which John Randolph used to describe as "frozen one-half of the 
year, and dry the other half." At Cincinnati, we were reminded of the perils of 

660 



FIRST SIGHT OF PRAIRIE-LAND. 661 

western navigation, for only a day or two before, a handsome new steamer had been 
blown to pieces directly in front of the town, and nearly all on board perished mis- 
erably, drowned or scalded, to gratify the whim of the captain, who wished to display 
the speed of his boat, and, therefore, ordered the safety-valves of the boilers to be 
closed. A week's voyage brought us to St. Louis, which prided itself upon a pop- 
ulation of several thousand souls, but whose houses extended scarcely a quarter of a 
mile back from the river front. In walking the streets one's ear could hardly de- 
termine whether the town were French or English, for one language seemed to be 
spoken as much as the other, by blacks as well as whites, while an additional interest 
was lent to the place by files of blanketed Indians stalking about silent as ghosts. 
St. Louis was then the headquarters of the American fur trade, and the peltries 
freighted in Mackinaw boats as well as steamers, were brought to its levee from 
the head-waters both of the Missouri and Mississippi, and the voyageurs added 
another charm to the picturesque groups of the thoroughfares. 

Another night and part of a day were passed on a steamer in the "Illinois Eiver 
trade," and we reached Naples in time for the morning stage for Jacksonville, a 
drive of twenty-five miles across the river bottom, up the bluff, through groves and 
prairies. It was our first experience of prairie-land, and although more than fifty 
years have passed since the drive on that summer morning, the impressions then 
created by the landscape of that new world are still fresh and vivid in my memory. 
The following picture, drawn by the hand of my venerated friend, Prof. Truman 
Marcellus Post, will give some notion of the scene through which we moved. 
"Never shall I forget" he says, "my first vision and impression of the prairie; the 
vast, silent, green waste, houseless, manless, the red man gone, the white man not 
yet entered ; the ocean-like expanse, now a level plain, now rippling into verdant 
wavelets, now with a vast sea roll of gradual rise and fall, occasionally billowing into 
bluffs that bordered the water-courses with long stretches and curvature of forest, 
flecked and embroidered with the red-bud and the haw ; the grassy desert studded 
here and there with islands of the oak, maple, walnut, and pecan, fringed with the 
sassafras, the persimmon, and the sumach; and occasional islets of the wild plum, 
cherry, and apple, scattered through the sea of verdure, and with their fragrance 
hittiiig the sense from afar. It seemed to me a fairy-landscape. I seemed as wander- 
ino" in a magian realm under a mighty solitude that bent entranced over a vision of 
new, strange, infinite beauty. The genius of morning was on all things; it was the 
morning of the day of the land and of my own life." 



662 A PIONEER IN THE CATTLE TRADE. 

Towards the end of our journey we drove up a long, gentle slope to the top of the 
"mound," whence there was a wide view of surpassing beauty. Houses and farms 
had begun to appear ; and off to the southeast a pasture of a thousand acres was 
pointed out in which countless cattle were feeding. They as well as the great estate 
of which their meadow was scarcely a tenth, belonged to Jacob Strawn,the great 
grazier and drover who supplied St. Louis with beef -cattle, and was a representative 
man of the time, scouring the country far and near to collect his herds, and then 
driving them a hundred miles to market. It was said that he took but four hours' 
sleep, and often a part of that was in the saddle. He had begun life with nothing 
but his keen eye, quick wit, uncommon knowledge of his business, and tireless energy, 
and by middle age had become one of the greatest land-holders of the country, while 
few men were so widely known as he, and none were more respected in business. 
Of no man could it be more truly said than of him, that "his word was as good as 
his bond." I suppose he was the pioneer and founder of the great cattle trade of 
the West. 

From the "mound" our road lay along a ridge after a while skirted on both sides 
by groves. A turn in the road brought us to College Hill and Jacksonville — the goal 
of our two weeks' wandering was before us ; the new buildings of the college on our 
right and the house of Gov. Joseph Duncan — probably the largest and handsomest 
in the State at that day — on our left. The distance between Philadelphia and 
Jacksonville, which then took a fortnight to accomplish, can now be gone over in a 
little more than thirty hours. 

The town was planted in the middle of a beautiful but not extensive prairie, the 
skirts of which were fringed with fine bits of timber, and along one edge of it 
there wound from southeast to northwest a sluggish creek, the Mauvaise Terre, — 
called by the people the Movistar, — which, after following its crooked way many miles, 
empties into the Illinois river. It received its name from the early French explorers, 
who thereby showed themselves poor judges of good land, for there is not on earth 
a richer and more fertile tract than that drained by the Mauvaise Terre. 

An old geography described Shenectady,N.Y,, as "a town of three hundred houses 
and fifteen hundred inhabitants, all standing with their gable-ends to the streets." 
Except for the gable-ends, the account might stand for Jacksonville when we entered 
it. There were a few brick buildings, store-houses, and dwellings, many more slight 
frame structures, but most were the primitive log-cabins, some of which were covered 
by clapboards, and not a few showmg the solid stuff of which they were built. The 



JACKSONVILLE, ILLINOIS, IN 1838. 663 

< 'public square" was the center of the town, in which stood the brick court-house, 
and separated from it by a roadway, a two-storied market-house, the upper floor of 
which was given up to lawyer's offices and a newspaper press, while from its gallery 
the politicians were accustomed to harangue their fellow-citizens gathered in the open 
space below. From that rostrum, or, more properly speaking, forum, — for in old 
Rome the forum was the market-place, where causes were tried and orations, political 
as well as forensic, delivered; and so the founders of the western town followed 
strictly the classic precedent in using their market-house for oratory as well as the 
sale of meats and vegetables; — from that forum, I often heard speeches from many 
of the most distinguished men of the West, when fledging their wings for a flight to 
Washington and national renown, one of whom, Abraham Lincoln, has gained the 
perch of immortal fame. 

The sides of the square were filled with business houses, dwellings and oflices, and 
from the center of each line started the four principal streets of the town, running 
to the cardinal points of the compass, and named, respectively, Springfield, St. 
Louis, Naples, and Beardstown — the places to which they led; while two smaller 
streets started from each corner of the square. It is curious to note how Philadel- 
phia, the seat of our government in the last decade of the 18th century, gave form 
and style to the building of towns in the West for many years. Cincinnati, Lexing- 
ton, Louisville, Nashville, even St. Louis, and thousands of smaller places, implicitly 
followed William Penn's grand plan for a town, and even borrowed his names for 
streets — Chestnut, Walnut, Spruce, Pine, Vine, and the rest; and notwithstanding 
land was so cheap and abundant in the new countries, the narrow gauge for the width 
of streets in the Quaker City was adopted throughout the West, on the river-banks, 
and the prairies. Chicago is almost the only city of the West, founded within the 
first fifty years of this century, whose original streets were wide enough for conven- 
ience and beauty. The influential public men from beyond the mountains who were 
gathered into the City of Brotherly Love during Washington's administration, went 
to their distant homes in the virgin world, so impressed by the splendor of the town 
on the Delaware that they pursuaded their fellow-citizens and constituents to lay out 
and build their towns after its fashion. 

The population of Jacksonville and of the country tributary to it, all of which had 
come within less than twenty years, was drawn from almost every State of the Union, 
and from several countries in the Old World — England, Scotland, Ireland, and Ger- 
many. The two largest classes were from Connecticut, Massachusetts, and the other 



664 "PICAYUNE Yankee" vs. "lazy southerner." 

New England States, and from Virginia and North Carolina, by way of Kentucky, Ten- 
nessee, and Ohio; and the line which separated the "Yankees" and "Southerners" 
was broad and distinctly marked. Little love was lost between them; and if there 
was not positive hatred, contempt and scorn thinly veiled, were decided in each to- 
ward the other. A "picayune Yankee," "no account trash," "mighty small pota- 
toes, and few in a hill," "people that would skin a flea for his hide and tallow," were 
common terms of reproach hurled at the sons of the Pilgrims from those who 
boasted descent from the "Cavaliers;" and the compliment was returned by "lazy," 
"trifling," "people that hadn't no schoolin'," "unfacilized creeturs, that had more 
pride than brains or money, and that set no store by edication and virtoo." The 
thrift displayed by the people from the "Land of Steady Habits," in close trading, 
sharp bargains, and an economical style of living, was held to be meanness by the 
less prudent Kentuckian, while his freehanded ways in business and house-keeping 
were considered by the other, "extravagance that tempted Providence." Many of 
the Southerners would swear, drink, and fight in the open day; the others rarely 
fought, drank only on the sly, and swore by periphrasis. The sins of the first were 
outbreaking and regardless of public opinion ; those of the others were qualified by 
"what folks would say." The western man of southern descent boasted that he 
didn't care "shucks" what people thought of him, and if "they said anything he 
didn't like, he'd make 'em swallow it, or die tryin' ;" "if he wanted to chop wood on 
a Sunday, or ride his filly in a quarter-race for money on Saturday, he reckoned it 
was his lookout, and nobody else's." He kept one or more dogs to hunt coons and 
'possums by night with his boys and a party of friends. He was a dead shot with 
a rifle, and claimed that he could pick out a squirrel's eye at a hundred yards. He 
liked sport and holidays, and when mellow with corn whiskey, delighted in a rough- 
and-tumble fight. Notwithstanding his show of free and easy ways, the chances 
were that he was as keen in a trade, shrewd in a swap or bargain as any other man, 
"for he had cut his eye-teeth in old Kaintuck, and allowed that the man who beat 
him in business would have to get up a good while before day-light." He called all 
his neighbors and acquaintances, even the most eminent citizens, behind their back 
or to their faces, by the diminutive of their first names, as boys do — Joe, Jack, Billy, 
and the like — and his talk was apt to be highly spiced with idioms, slang, and not 
seldom with oaths. He was careless in dress as in speech ; his laugh as well as his 
talk was loud, and you could often hear his guffaw at a good story a quarter of a 
mile away. Notwithstanding he would get as "mad as hops," and thunder out his 
gibes in a torrent, his prevailing tone was that of good humor. 



THEIR CHARACTERISTICS AND PREJUDICES. 665 

Good neighborship was a prime article of his religion ; if he had anything par- 
ticularly toothsome for dinner he never enjoyed it to the full unless it was shared 
with guests, and until his wife had sent a part of the luxury to the houses of one 
or more friends. In the sickness or trouble of his neighbors, no man could 
be more sweet in sympathy and unwearied in helpful attentions. If he became con- 
verted and renounced the world, he joined the Methodist, Baptist, or ''Christian" 
church, or if of the Scotch-Irish stock, the old school Presbyterian. Before joining 
the church he had read few books, but after that act he became a devout student 
of the Bible, and of such literature as would help him to understand it better. 
Apart from its molding power over the spiritual life and experience as well as the 
moral conduct and standards of these early settlers, the influence of the Sacred 
Volume in educating their intellect and faculties of expression has been incalcu- 
lable. Without the heat and light which flow from it as from the sun, and the life 
which they communicate, the men of the West, whether their blood had its fountain 
north or south of Mason and Dixon's Line, would still be laggards in the race 
of civilization. 

The prejudice in the mind and heart of the descendants of the South towards the 
sons of New England had shown itself in their long and bitter opposition to the first 
great work of internal improvement in Illinois — the Illinois River and Lake Michigan 
Canal — because, they said, it would flood the country with Yankees, and to the name 
Yankee they prefixed not a few unsavory epithets. Unfortunately, the best known 
type of New England, at that early day, was the peddler of wooden clocks, tin and 
other wares, whose wagon pulled up in front of nearly every log-cabin throughout 
the West, while his "slick jaw" and "everlasting jabber" "bamboozled" old and 
young, and in the end they found "they had paid dear for their whistle." More- 
over, the early ministers, teachers, and professors going as missionaries to the West, 
were in the habit of writing home to friends and the public prints, dismal and heart- 
rending accounts of the benighted heathenism of the Mississippi Valley, and savagery 
of its inhabitants, from which nothing could redeem them but the money and the 
labors of New England people. These dreadful pictures, of course, found their way 
back to the West, inflaming the ire and embittering the hostility of those who con- 
sidered themselves caricatured and belied. The reserved manners and cautious speech 
of the people from a colder clime were more than distasteful to the outspoken men 
whose blood was hot. If you wished to make the Southerner happy and tie him to you 
as your friend, you had only to call at his home about breakfast, dinner, or supper 



666 VIEWS ABOUT SLAVERY A ROOT OF BITTERNESS. 

time, and take "pot-luck" with him. The best the house afforded was at your serv- 
ice, and as you came to the table it was no uncommon formula for him laughingly 
to exclaim, "Now eat, eat hearty, eat till you kill yourself; I wish you would;" or, 
"You must help us clear the table, for all that is left will be thrown in the slop-barrel 
and given to the pigs." On the other hand, the New England man rarely, if ever, 
invited you "to take a bite" with him, and this want of hospitality was a grievous 
offense to his free-living neighbor, and was held to be a proof of the parsimonious, 
not to say niggardly, spirit which he charged home upon the other. 

Another root of bitterness which separated them was the difference of their views 
about slavery. Notwithstanding most of the better sort of people had quitted Ken- 
tucky and Virginia because of their dislike of "The Institution," and the wish that 
their children should grow up in a free State, while the plainer people wished to 
escape the odium of not owning and working "niggers," and of being rated as "poor 
white trash" by both masters and slaves; nearly all men of southern birth held an 
"abolitionist" to be the vilest of mankind, and had a shrewd suspicion that almost 
every man from New England was tainted with insane and incendiary opinions on 
this burning question. The rancorous feelings which had been stirred to the depths 
by the agitation of 1823-24, as to whether the Constitution of Illinois should be 
changed so as to admit slavery, and the slender majority of 1800 against it, had not 
yet died out; and the death of the Rev. Mr. Lovejoy by the hands of a mob at 
Alton, in 1837, had thrown fuel on the smouldering embers and caused the flame of 
excitement to glow for many years. The terms Yankee and Abolitionist were con- 
sidered to be interchangeable, and both were a stone of stumbling and rock of offense 
to the Southerners — not to say a "stench in their nostrils." 

As late as 1847, Judge John M. Palmer, a man of Kentucky birth and breeding, 
who came to Illinois in his boyhood ( who later became a distinguished General in 
the Civil War, was Governor of the State, and is now an eminent Senator in the 
Congress of the United States), made a speech in the Constitutional Convention dep- 
recating the agitation of the slavery question, but stating his belief that some of 
the abolitionists were honest and good men. This expression of opinion was received 
by his constituents in Macoupin county with a howl of rage. Not a great while 
after, when presiding on the bench in that county, he admitted the affidavit of a 
negro as testimony, which so enraged his fellow-citizens that a mob was organized to 
lynch him as an abolitionist, and would doubtless have carried their threats into ex- 
ecution, but for his well-known courage, defiant bearing, great size and strength. 



THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD. 667 

When he came up for re-election, so unpopular had these two acts made him, that he 
was overwhelmingly defeated where he had been by all odds the most popular citizen 
and officer of the county. 

Colonists always exaggerate, sometimes to the verge of carricature, the vices and 
even the virtues of their native homes. The most intense devotees of the British 
throne are to be found in Canada, India and Australia; and the most fiercely loyal 
Virginians and Kentuckians were often met with in Illinois ; while the spirit of Ply- 
mouth Rock not seldom shone with a steadier, more brilliant light in log-cabins on 
the prairies, than in the neighborhood of Bunker Hill and Yale College. The close- 
mouthed reserve and tight purse-strings, the undemonstrative manners, yet firm hold 
upon opinions and convictions which marked the men from the Connecticut River, 
made them an increasing power in the new countries. Although their ways were for 
a long time distasteful to their more mercurial and demonstrative neighbors, their 
influence grew year by year. Wherever a group of New England people, however 
small, was settled, there was almost sure to be a branch of the "underground rail- 
road," as it was called, by whose means runaway negroes from the South were 
helped on the road to Canada. The members of these associations were known to 
each other, but to no one else ; their meetings were more guarded and secret than those 
of the Masons; their measures were well considered and effective; they might be 
suspected, but were rarely, if ever, detected by the people among whom they lived. 

After a while it was found that the frugal Yankee who kept such a sharp eye upon 
his picayunes did so not only to increase his hoard, but to gain the means to con- 
tribute to the charities in which he took an interest, schools of learning, missions — 
foreign and at home — the anti-slavery cause, public libraries, societies for improving 
the condition of the poor and helping boys and girls to get an education. He might 
never invite you to dinner, but if you asked him to give money to a cause which com- 
mended itself to his understanding, he would be almost sure to do it. Feeling had 
less to do with his giving than judgment, and the views he had brought with him 
from the place of his birth. On the other hand, if you touched the sympathies of 
the Kentuckian by your appeal, you could get almost his last picayune. Your pathos 
would be lost upon the Yankee, who would listen, and be unmoved by the most touch- 
ing appeal. .Fears and strong emotions consecrated the Southerner's gift ; while the 
other's contribution was yielded up at the beck of reason or the bias of tradition. 
Both classes carried into the environment of their new homes the strong vent of 
heredity. One called his spiritual guide "our minister;" the other, "my parson." 



668 WOKDS AND PHRASES OF "CURRENT COIN." 

The first liked sermons that were written and read, and singing that was led by a 
choir, with the accompaniment of a bass viol and a flute, if they could be had ; the 
other declared that "he wouldn't give a baubee for a serment that had to be read out 
of a book, and he liked singing when everybody could pitch in and help to tote the 
tchune after some brother or sister had raised it ;" and as for his part, "he'd as soon 
think of praising God by squeezing the tail of a yearling calf to make him squeal as 
to have an ungodly big fiddle or tooting on a fife in a meeting-house;" he wanted 
none of your "Yankee singing-school consarns in his religion." "The louder the par- 
son preached, and the more he thumped the Bible, and the more the brethin and sis- 
tering shouted, the better he liked it." The man from New England wished every- 
thing done decently and in order, as it was "down to hum." 

I may as well set down here some of the new words and phrases which I found to 
be the current coin of the country, and show into what queer forms the Queen's 
English has been twisted on the frontier. Not long after our arrival, a boy of my 
own age invited me to share with him the freedom which kind-hearted Gov. Duncan 
had given to range through his watermelon patch. On our way I asked if we should 
find many; he answered, "Thousands, lots and gobs and mortal slathers." Invited 
to dine, my host said as we came to the table, "Holp yuself to whatsomdever ye 
like, for if you don't holp yuself, nobody'll holp ye to yer meals' vittels." "He's 
a cavortin' on a high horse," was said of a man trying to put on style. "I'll be con- 
sarned if she's not a tarnation fine gal," would be said of a pretty young woman. 
"You needn't be tryin' to bullyrag and scrouge me unless you're spilin' for a fight; 
and if you are, I reckon you'll find me an owdacious scrouger that'll jist bodiacer- 
ously split you right open down the middle." "You onery low-down dog," answers 
the person thus challenged, "ye needn't try to get shet of me with all yer tom- 
fool brag; I'll knock you into a cocked hat soon'r'n ye kin say Jack Robinson." 

The hours of the day were told by the motions of the heavenly bodies — so many 
hours before sun-up, and so many after sun-down ; and after the rising, it was one, 
two, three hours by sun, and so on until noon, which was always called dinner-time; 
and after that, three, two, and one hours by sun — and people were as accurate in 
numbering the hours as if they had referred to watches and clocks, and were rarely 
at fault even in cloudy or rainy weather. The time for beginning evening service, 
whether at church or other gatherings, was early candle-lighting, or, as it was more 
popularly called, "yearly candle-lightin'." An object thought to be particularly 
fine or handsome, was called a "jewholloper;" anything ingenious and new was "a 



WORDS AND PHRASES OF ''CURRENT COIN." 669 

sharp contraption," and whatever smacked of fraud was a "hooken-snivvey." A 
poor man was declared to have a mighty small chance of "truck and plunder," and 
a rich one to have an "orful sight of this world's goods and filthy lucre." A com- 
mon form of imprecation was, "I'll be dog-oned — you be dog-oned." "Scrumptious" 
signified very good. "Rinctum-rhino" was hard cash, and so was "spondulics." 
"It is the longest pole that knocks down the persimmons," was the figure for ability 
or effective work. "I never cross a river till I get to it," and "I never swap jack- 
knives while swimming a horse over a river," were two sayings of the famous back- 
woods preacher, Peter Cartwright, which, adopted by Abraham Lincoln, have passed 
into proverbs; and, by the way, many of Mr. Lincoln's best stories and idioms were 
derived from the old preacher. 

"Toploftical," or "stake an' rider'd a'rs," meant high and supercilious manner, the 
latter phrase derived from a new and more carefully builded fence. An adversary 
vanquished in the argument, it was said "tuk water;" and a man who fled from any 
kind of danger, "tuk to the timber," and those who went in pursuit of him were said 
"to smoke him out," ^. e., by building a fire around him, and stifling him with the 
smoke. "Jee-whillikins," an exclamation of surprise or admiration. 

"A bunch, or string of cattle," — a herd. The "beetinest han'," that which is 
sure to win. "CoUogan'," to unite generally for evil purposes. "Juberous" — doubt- 
ful. "To come down on him like a thousand of brick," or a "thunder gust o' wood- 
peckers," to overwhelm an antagonist. 

The public lands, called indifferently "Government" or "Congress" lands, were laid 
off in tracts a mile square, — 640 acres, — called a section ; this was subdivided into 
a half section, — 320 acres, — and this again into quarter sections, — 160 acres, — and the 
subdivisions went on to eighty and forty acres, so that it was usual to speak of a 
"forty" an "eighty," or "a hundred and sixty," or "two eighties," three forties," 
and the like. 

A short man was said to have "a mighty small chance of legs," and a tall one 
to have "awful grass-tanglers." A person in difliculty was like "a little dog in tall 
grass." A good woman on her way from "meeting," went shouting along the road. 
Asked the meaning of her joy, she cried : "Oh, that blessed word the preacher said, 
'met-a-physic !' Glory! religion's meat and physic both." 

The presence of not a few families from New York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, 
Delaware, and Maryland, bridged the gulf between Plymouth Rock and James River, 
and helped to temper and soften the asperity and antagonism between the lovers of 



670 WHAT CLAY AND JACKSON DID. 

cod-fish, pumpkin-pies, and baked beans, on the one hand, and of "hog and hominy," 
deer meat and 'possum, hoe-cake and corn-dodger, on the other. 

Account also must be taken of the lawyers, doctors, and other men of educa- 
tion, as well as the ministers and teachers, who helped to spread sweetness and 
light among the masses of the people. Nor must the influence of politics be forgot- 
ten. Many men from all sections ranged themselves under the banner of "Old Hick- 
ory," as General Jackson was called; and an almost equal number from both north 
and south were as enthusiastic for Henry Clay. These leaders stood as the repre- 
sentatives of the political doctrines of their opposed parties, and while a majority of 
voters on both sides knew little or nothing about the currency, the tariff, and other 
vital questions, they were ready to work, vote, and fight for the champions in whom 
they believed. Their untutored minds were slow in grasping the ethical and practical 
questions at issue, but pinning their faith to their leaders, and espousing the cause 
known as Whig or Democratic, not that they knew or cared much for the principles 
involved, but because they rendered a homage that bordered upon worship to the 
commanders in the conflict, and thus through the heat of enthusiasm, the ice of ig- 
norance was melted and the soil of their intellects was mellowed to receive and ger- 
minate the ideas of political truth. "Feller-citizens," exclaimed a Western stump 
orator, "Whar was Henry Clay when General Jackson was a fitin' the enemies of 
his country, and lickin' the British out'n their boots at the battle of New Orleans, 
and a kiverin' hisself, and every feller under him with everlastin' glory; whar, I say, 
was Henry Clay? Why, he was a playin' bluff with the crowned heads of Europe, 
and bettin' his millions on his hand, and nary a pair in it;" referring to Mr. Clay's 
stay in Europe as one of our plenipotentiaries to negotiate the treaty of Ghent, 
which closed our last war with Great Britain. Of course, the Democrats received 
this with whoops and yells, until they were out of breath. The Whig orator an- 
swered: "Feller-citizens, supposin' Henry Clay did play cyards with the kings and 
queens of Europe! didn't he break their bank, and bring all their money home with 
him, an' gev it to the poor, never a keepin' a cent of it for hisself? Wasn't he sent 
over to beat 'em at every game, an' he did it? What's whalen' a few Britishers, a 
few sodgers and generals, alongside of beatin' all the kings and queens? With such 
men as he had, such dead shots. General Jackson couldn't a helped whippin' the 
British ; but it took a man of giantific intelleck to clean out the whole crowd of 
crowned heads, — and that's what Henry Clay did. Now, let anybody say which is 
the best man for President of these United States, — him that trounced the British 



iEARLY POLITICIANS. 671 

sodgers, and killed a few officers, or him that busted the whole royal family." 
Then it was the turn for the Whigs to shout until they were black in the face. 

Men first and measures afterwards, were the spring of loyalty and the bond of 
attachment among the unlettered settlers. Party feeling rose to fever heat; the 
Whigs hated and despised the Democrats, and these returned the bitterness with in- 
terest ; the fierceness of these political feuds cast into the shade sectional enmities, for 
Yankees and Southerners were in both parties, and learned to work together with 
ardor in the cause of their respected chieftains. 

The ground of prejudice and ill-will was changed ; men and their families that had 
stood aloof from each other because of their birth-places, came close together, and the 
pulse of a national life began to throb in their breasts and lift them out of neighbor- 
hood narrowness. Ambitious young men from the East and South were finding their 
way to the new villages of the West, and "sticking up their shingles" as lawyers, 
some at once and others after serving their apprenticeship as school-teachers, surveyors, 
or clerks in stores ; studying a few law books meanwhile ; and all of them joined the 
ranks of one or the other party, becoming spokesmen and file-leaders, and the oratory 
of the stump began to take a higher range. It was still strongly spiced with person- 
alities, rough stories, western lingo and humor; for he who would reach the people 
must speak to them on their own level, and raise them to his own by higher thought, 
clearer expression, and finer feeling. It was an education for the young sprigs and 
limbs of the law as well as for the plain people. Demagogic spouting still abounded, 
but the discussions between rival aspirants and candidates began to deal with the 
broad and ever-broadening questions which appealed to the understanding rather 
than prejudice, and which lay near to the nation's life and welfare. 

I have spoken of our market-house, or forum, where on almost every Saturday, if 
the weather allowed, when the country people came to town to trade, crowds were 
gathered to hear the orators, old and young, discuss the political topics of the time — 
local, state and federal. Among our own politicians and lawyers were Murray Mc- 
Connel,our wheel-horse of the Democracy, his son-in-law, James A. McDougall, after- 
wards a Senator in Congress from California, Josiah Lamborn Lane, like Prentiss of 
Mississippi, and only inferior to him in eloquence at the bar and on the stump, and 
like him prematurely cut off, and by the same cause. Now and then uncle Peter 
Cartwright would make a Democratic speech when he came to attend his quarterly 
meeting, and Brother Newton Cloud, a popular local preacher living on Apple Creek, 
and often a member of the Legislature, would also favor the crowd with Democratic 



672 EARLY POLITICIANS. 

doctrines. On the other side we had Col. John J. Hardin, one of the most gallant 
gentlemen, powerful stump-speakers, admirable and noble men whose names have 
shed luster upon the early days of Illinois. His brilliant career was cut short on the 
field of Buena Vista, in the Mexican war. 

Abraham Lincoln used to call him "more than his father," and said that his debt 
to him was greater than he owed to any other man. Young William Brown, after- 
wards known as "The Judge," and young Richard Yates, just out of college and be- 
ginning the practice of law, tried their 'prentice hands from that galler3^ Judge 
Brown left the law and politics, and the eminence he would be sure to gain, to become 
a banker; but Richard Yates, or "Our Dick" as he was affectionately styled, went 
to the Legislature, to Congress, became War-governor of Illinois, United States 
Senator, and achieved a popularity among the people of his State second only to that 
of Mr. Lincoln himself. Had his self-restraint been equal to his popular gifts, he 
would no doubt have filled the presidential chair. From other towns, such as 
Springfield and Quincy, we had Stephen A. Douglas, even then beginning to be called 
"The Little Giant," who only a short time before had been teaching a country school 
in a log-cabin in an obscure part of our county ; James Shields, afterwards a General 
both in the Mexican and our Civil wars, and a Senator in Congress, I think, from 
three different States. John A. McCIernand came to us from Shawneetown, made 
speeches in private as well as in public, married one of our girls, filled a seat in Con- 
srress, and distinguished himself as a General in the Civil war. On the other side we 
used to hear the brilliant O. H. Browning from Quincy, Lisle Smith from Chicago, 
probably the most finished and graceful orator at the bar and on the hustings Illinois 
has ever had ; Mr. Butterfield, from the same city, a great lawyer and an equally great 
wit; Col. Edwin D. Baker, scarcely second to Lisle Smith as an orator, who was 
elected from our district to Congress, in 1844, resigned his seat in 1846 to become 
Colonel of a regiment in the Mexican war, entered Congress again from another 
Illinois district, removed to California, and practiced law, thence to Oregon, where he 
was elected to the Senate of the United States, was later appointed Brigadier-General 
in the Civil war, and in 1862 was killed at the head of his brigade in the battle of Ball's 
Bluff, Va. No man of all the throng delighted us more by his speeches than "Old 
Abe," as Mr. Lincoln was even then familiarly styled. His tall, gaunt, awkward 
form, clad in homely, careless dress, his clear, simple, convincing logic, his inimitable 
stories brim-full of wit, humor and pathos, clinching his argument, hisunrufiied good 
nature united to make him a prime favorite with every "Sucker" audience, even in 
those early days. 



''CIRCUMSTANCES MOST NOVEL AND PECULIAR." 673 

Speaking of Mr. Butterfield, I must put down two or three stories. At the begin- 
ning of the Mexican war he was twitted by a pohtieal adversary with having 
opposed the last war with Great Britain, in 1812, and would, no doubt, oppose the 
present war. He answered, "the experience I gained in 1812, and afterwards, leads 
me to welcome pestilence, famine, war, and all the other inestimable blessings brought 
us by the Democratic administration." 

In 1842, as counsel for the Mormon prophet, Joe Smith, arguing a writ of habeas 
corpus before the District Court of the United States, at Springfield, Illinois, he 
moved for the discharge of the Prophet from custody. So great was the popular 
interest in the case, that Judge Nathaniel Pope, father of Gen. John B. Pope, held 
court in one. of the legislative halls of the capitol, and around him were grouped 
many of the most beautiful girls of the State, while Joe Smith was attended by his 
twelve apostles, and the court-room was crowded with the most eminent lawyers and 
citizens of the commonwealth. Mr, Butterfield, dressed with exemplary neatness in 
the blue and buff of the old Whig party, rising to speak, paused, ran his eye 
admiringly from the central figure of the judge along the rows of lovely women on 
each side of him, and said : 

"May it please the court, I appear before you to-day under circumstances most 
novel and peculiar. I am to address the 'Pope' (bowing to the judge) surrounded 
by angels (bowing still lower to the ladies), in the presence of the holy Apostles, in 
behalf of the Prophet of the Lord." In 1848, General Shields returning from the 
Mexican war, where he had been wounded several times, became a candidate for the 
United States Senate, defeated the eminent Judge Sidney T. Breese. One of the 
General's wounds had been caused by a musket-ball entering his right breast, passing 
through the lung, and coming out of his back. The morning after the election, one 
of the judges of the Supreme Court, expressing his astonishment at the result, said : 
"It was the war, and that Mexican bullet that did the business." "Yes," answered 
Mr. Butterfield dryly, "and what an extraordinary, what a wonderful shot that 
was! The ball went clean through Shields without hurting him, or even leaving a 
scar, and killed Breese a thousand miles away." 

The boys of my age took the liveliest interest in the political speakers and their 
harangues. Each one had his hero, and shouted for him with all his might — some for 
Douglas, others for Lincoln — and taking sides enthusiastically upheld the cause of 
party and chieftains with arguments and sometimes blows. When the unequaled 
excitement of the log-cabin and hard-cider contest for the presidency in 1840, with 
43 



674 "YOUNG America" in politics. 

its battle-cry of William Henry Harrison and John Tyler, swept over the country, 
all classes, save a few of the staunchest Democrats, were carried into the Whig 
ranks. Never have I known the enthusiasm of the boys raised to such a pitch as in 
that campaign. You may be sure that when they enter heart and soul into a polit- 
ical contest, the cause they espouse will win. The picturesque features of that 
memorable struggle — the log-cabins adorned with coon-skins, furnished with barrels of 
hard-cider and plenty of gourds with which to drink it, set on lojig wagon-beds hauled 
by many yokes of oxen, surrounded by shouting crowds on foot and on horseback 
chanting the campaign songs, each chorus rounded up with "three times three" for 
"old Tippecanoe and Tyler too," paraded through the streets of every village, and 
from county to county, throughout the wide West — kindled a flame of* excitement 
which carried everybody, especially the boys, off their feet. A passion for politics, 
such as inflamed the western boys fifty years ago, I must believe to be as good for 
them as the rage for baseball and sculling matches, perhaps a little better. A ven 
erable Archbishop of Canterbury once offered to take me upon the floor of the House 
of Lords to hear a great debate, adding, "of course, your sons will not care to go, as 
they take no interest in politics." When I assured him that their interest, not only 
in American but English politics, was most lively, he exclaimed, "Incredible ! I never 
knew an English boy of much greater age than theirs, who cared a groat for such 
questions or discussions." Our boys of to-day will make presidents a few years 
hence, and decide the questions of peace and war, 

The relations between boys and men in the West were much more close and 
friendly than I have seen elsewhere, except in the South. The elders remembered 
that they were boys a few years before, and that in a little while the youngsters 
would be their equals, perhaps their masters. Policy combined with the friendly 
free and easy ways of the time and country, to form a kindly bond of union between 
the elders and their juniors, profitable alike to both. Most lawyers carried the briefs 
of their cases and other legal documents in their hats, and nearly every boy stuffed 
the crown of his cap or hat with letters or other papers. At first we had mails two 
or three times a week, and for an hour or more before the arrival of the stajre the 
ante-room of the post-office and all the spaces around it were crowded with lawyers and 
other principal citizens, recruited by no end of boys, talking politics, telling stories, 
and repeating the latest news ; it was like the Athenian Agora, and had no slight 
educational power. Speaking of the post-office reminds me of a story of a western 
postmaster in those days, who happened to be the only subscriber in his village to 



"WORKED THEIR WAY" THROUGH COLLEGE. 675 

the "Louisville Journal," then the great newspaper. While distributing the mail 
which came once a week, he slipped his paper into his pocket to be sure of the first 
reading. A great debate was on in the Senate of the United States, in which Clay, 
Webster, Calhoun, Benton, and the other leaders were taking part. The more 
intelligent citizens of the village were waiting outside the office to get the news from 

thepostmaster'spaper, and while coolingtheir heels and curbingtheir impatience as they 
might, they heard him exclaim, "My granny! what's this country coming to! here's 
six more niggers run away from Kaintuckee, and a reward offered for every one of 
'em." While the schoolmaster and other citizens were panting for news of the 
battle of giants, he was only interested in the advertisements concerning runaway 
slaves. 

Our town — or burg, as it was commonly called — was rich not only as the seat of a 
college for boys, but of an academy of high grade for girls, presided over by the 
venerable John Adams, who had been for many years head master of Phillips' Acad- 
emy, Andover, Massachusetts, and whose presence among us, both in the day school 
and Sunday school, was an inestimable blessing, doing much to soften and sweeten 
the manners, elevate and refine the character of the girls. The college was founded 
and manned by a small body of New England men, chiefly from Yale, who had come 
out a few years before as pioneers in the cause of higher education. The body of 
the fifty or hundred students came from Illinois, Missouri, some from States farther 
South, and a few from the East; except boys from the town, most were sons of New 
England parents. Not a few of them "worked their way" through college, as it was 
called, i. e., taught school a part of the year and attended college the rest, worked 
on farms, chopping wood and the like. One of my college friends, although he was 
offered aid by an educational society, manfully declined it, earned the money to paj'^ 
his way by chopping wood, was graduated with distinction, was afterwards super- 
intendent of public schools in Illinois for twelve 3^ears, doing more to advance the 
cause of education in the State than any other man has done, and since then has been 
the distinguished president of Knox College. During his college course his diet cost 
him "a bit" (twelve and a half cents) a week, and consisted of roasted potatoes, 
corn-meal mush and milk. 

"Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, 
And hears the Muses in a ring 
Aye round about Jove's altar sing." 

Other boys subjected themselves to nearly as stern a regimen, maintaining their 
self-respect and independence, while learning to gather the golden apples from the 



676 JOHN M. PALMER*S START IN LIFE. 

tree of knowledge. Not a few men have I known who began life thus, in the spirit 
of the motto which Sydney Smith suggested for the "Edinburgh Eeview," when it 
was founded, — "We cultivate literature on a little oat-meal," — and later on took hon- 
orable places in the pulpit, at the bar, on the bench, in the seats of commerce, the 
halls of science and letters, and scarce one has failed to pursue a useful and enviable 
career. To illustrate the spirit of the boys, let me again refer to Senator John M. 
Palmer. His father removed from Kentucky to Illinois in 1831, and settled near 
Bunker Hill. A year or two later, as the family were grouped about the evening 
fireside after the hard work of the farm in which the father and sons took part, 
John, a well-grown, broad-backed, sturdy lad of sixteen or seventeen years, expressed 
a strong wish to go to school. At length his father said, "All right, sir, you can 
have your time," meaning thereby, that although he was bound by the law to work 
for his father until he was twenty-one, he should be free as if he had gained his ma- 
jority. He could scarcely believe his ears, and has told me that had his father made 
him a present of five hundred dollars, he should not have felt half so rich — and in 
those days five hundred dollars seemed as great a sum as a hundred thousand would 
now. His heart swelled and beat so fast that he had to leave the house, and Avalk a 
long time in the cool night air under the starry heavens to grasp the thought and 
regain composure. Bright and early next morning he bade the family good-bye, and, 
"taking his foot in his hand," as they used to say, was off foe Upper Alton, ten or 
fifteen miles away, where there was a manual labor school, without a cent in his 
pocket or any luggage but the clothes he had on. On reaching the village, not wish- 
ing to enter the school penniless, he engaged himself to a plasterer to mix mortar and 
carry the hod, at seventy-five cents a day, and his new master became surety for his 
board and lodginof at a dollar and a half a week. After a while he had earned twelve 
or fifteen dollars, had the Spanish coin in his pocket, and felt so rich that he had to 
go home and show the money to his brothers, and let each of them count it, for none 
of them had ever seen or handled such a vast sum before. He then went back and 
entered the school, working a part of each day to pay for tuition and board. In 
time his clothes, although patched again and again, became ragged; and happening 
to see a suit hanging at the window of a tailor's shop, he went in and asked the price. 
"Twelve dollars," answered the tailor; "they're just about your size, were made for 
a man who couldn't pay for them, and you see the coat and trousers are good cotton 
cloth, and the waistcoat is a beautiful calico." "I have no money," said the boy. 
After scanning him closely and asking a few questions, the tailor said, "I'll trust 



HARD LINES, BUT PLENTY OF FUN. (i77 

you," and the boy donned his new attire. By the 3rd of ^uly he owed the tailor three 
doHars and seventy-five cents, and having about fifteen dolhirs in his pocket, which 
he had earned by hard strokes, he again paid a visit to his home. His father in- 
quired the amount of his debt, and said, "To-morrow is the 4th of July ; go down and 
pay the tailor and celebrate your independence; the man who owes money he cannot 
pay is a slave, and he who has the money and won't pay is a knave — a thief." The 
boy walked down, paid the bill, and felt himself a true American. Thirty years or 
more after this incident the boy had become the Governor of Illinois, and the tailor, 
a man of excellent character, applied to him for an office, for the duties of which he 
was quite competent. "You shall have it," said the Governor, "as a tribute to your 
courage." "My courage?" stammered the other. "Yes," said the chief magistrate 
of the State, "when I was a poor boy you had the courage to trust me for a suit of 
clothes, and I have never forgotten it." 

In due time the boy studied law and began the practice, but instead of "riding the 
circuit," walked it, and thought nothing of a tramp of a hundred miles, using his hat 
instead of the green bag for his briefs. 

Hard as our lines were, we had plenty of fun, for the West in those days was the 
land of humor, and the love of it. He was the best fellow who cracked the most 
jokes, told the cleverest and aptest stories. Abraham Lincoln drew the exhaustless 
fund of his anecdotes and pat sayings from the soil of our life and the social atmos- 
phere we breathed, and was our representative man. We were a jolly Democracy, 
free-hearted, open-handed, where was no pride of birth, station or money. 

We knew no restraint nor conventions of older societies, but stood on a level where 
every one did that which seemed good in his owii^e^es, spoke his mind in such English 
as he could command, and feared nobody, from our most eminent citizens, Gov. Dun- 
can, familiarly called "Governor Joe," and Col. Hardin, called "Col. John J.," down 
to the boys whose heads were covered with coon-skin caps, and their bodies with 
blanket overcoats, the legs of their trousers tucked in the tops of their boots, while 
they waded about in the deep, black, prairie mud. Almost every man worked with 
his hands, and was not ashamed of it; and almost every boy lent his mother a lift in 
the business of the house, and his father at the shop, store, or in the field. They 
cut the wood, drew the water from the well and carried it to the house, milked the 
cows, fed the hogs, took care of the horses and oxen, and learned to turn their hands 
to anything. Nearly every one of them carried a pistol, dirk or bowie-knife, owned 
a rifle or shot-gun, and used it as an expert on quail, prairie-chicken, rabbit, and 



678 MR. LINCOLN S STORIES. 

squirrel, sometimes bringing down a deer or wolf. Most men and boys chewed to- 
bacco, smoked corn-cob pipes, and the use of whiskey was by no means uncommon. 
I remember a rebuke administered by a staid old New Englander at church to some 
tobacco-chewing boys who sat next him and expectorated freely on the floor; with a 
significant look, but without a word, he stooped and began to roll up his trousers as 
if preparing to wade through a muddy slough ; the chewing ceased. 

In my boyhood I often visited Springfield, where one of my recreations was to 
"loaf" in front of the store of my old friend, Mr. James Lamb, at the southeast corner 
of the public square, about one o'clock, vvhen people were on their way from dinner, 
and where Mr. Lincoln was almost sure to stop, and a crowd soon gathered to hear 
his stories. He would tell one or two, and this would call out one and another of his 
friends, and that never failed to remind him of a fresh one, and thus the fun went on 
sometimes for hours — indeed, until time to go to supper — while all the unemployed 
men and boys in that part of the town, often amounting to hundreds, were gathered 
to listen to the yarns; and the shouts of laughter called out by "Old Abe's" sallies 
of humor and grotesque descriptions, could be heard half a mile away. In the hot 
summer afternoons he would take oif hat, coat, and waistcoat, and in shirt-sleeves 
become not only a story-teller but an actor representing the scene and parties he por- 
trayed. The land has never had such a raconteur' to suit the taste and humor of a 
western crowd as he ; and the discipline he thus acquired did not a little towards giv- 
ing him that almost unequaled style of speech in the court-room, on the stump, and 
with the pen, — a style sure to go to "posterity, and live when most of the elaborate 
and stately declamations of the Senate, rostrum, and bar, are forgotten. "One 
touch of nature makes the whole world kin." 

The Rev. John Milton Peck, a Baptist minister from New England, entered Illinois 
as a missionary about 1817, while it was a territory, soon made a home for himself, 
which he called Rock Spring, about thirty miles east of St. Louis, and by virtue of 
his devotion, energy, and talents, became, and for many years continued to be, one 
of the most influential and honored citizens of the country, doing more than almost any 
other man of his generation to advance the highest welfare of the people, and to bring 
into the land the best kind of settlers. He wrote not a few books, and was, I suppose, 
the first literary man of the commonwealth. In 1834, he published a Gazetteer of 
the State, which was issued from the printing office in Jacksonville ; and in the sum- 
mer of that year, made a journey with his own horses and Avagon, and an equipment 
for camping out, from his home at Rock Spring, to Chicago, about three hundred 



A GREAT PROBLEM SOLVED. 679 

miles. On returning to Rock Spring, he published an open letter addressed to the 
governor of the State, the distinguished John Reynolds, whose own volumes, by the 
way, on early days in the West, are probably the most quaint and picturesque nar- 
ratives of these times that have yet seen the light. It is a good many years since 
I read Mr. Peck's account of his trip, and I am sorry that after the most painstak- 
ing search to get hold of it again, in the hope to enrich these pages with some 
characteristic extracts which would possess great interest, my quest has been fruit- 
less. I must, therefore, depend on my memory to reproduce some of his statements. 
Trusting to his knowledge of woodcraft and a compass, he struck a bee-line for the 
village by the lake, and after leaving Springfield, at the end of his first hundred 
miles, saw few settlements, and only now and then a lone cabin nestling in a point 
of timber. His w^ay took him across boundless prairies where were no roads and 
but few trails. A less skillful land-pilot would have been lost in the vast sea of 
verdure and flowers, for the sameness of the view from morning until evening, day 
after day, throughout the grassy solitude, was only at rare intervals broken by a o-rove 
rising upon the horizon like an island in the ocean. Wherever he saw timber he 
knew that water could be found, for through it a creek or branch was sure to wind. 
His fertile mind was racked with speculation as to how these illimitable tracts were 
to be fenced, for without fences there could be no farms ; and the woods of the 
country could not furnish rails enough for a tithe of its surface. After an incubation 
as long as his drive, he hatched the happy thought that the countrjMiiight be fenced 
with turf; in no other way could metes and bounds be made, and the millions of in- 
habitants whom his rapt fancy foresaw, enter into and possess this goodliest land 
upon Avhich the sun shone. Yes, turf for fences was the golden key which imlocked 
the problem of the future ; the blessed expedient which would render Illinois the 
Canaan of future ages, and save the prairies from the autumnal fires by which 
they had been swept for centuries ; and instead of surrendering them to the roam- 
ing buffalo and his savage hunter, or scarcely less nomadic grazier and shcplierd 
with their herds and flocks, convert these fertile grassy plains, richer than Mesopo- 
tamia ever was, into an endless garden of Eden, under the tillage of wise and happy 
men. 

When he reached Chicago, he saw Fort Dearborn surrounded by a huddle of 
log-cabins, with here and there a house of brick, containing a few hundred inhab- 
itants, whose chief business was trading with the Indians and waiting for the future. 
His page glows with the fervor of prophecy while he tells the governor that during 



680 • A REMARKABLE PREDICTION. 

that year as many as two hundred sloops and schooners and two steamboats, had en- 
tered the mouth of the river, and adds, "Your excellency may think me crazy, but 
I venture to predict that by the year 1900, or soon after, a railroad will connect 
Chicago with St. Louis, and, perhaps, even places more remote." No doubt all 
men outside of Chicago who read Mr. Peck's prediction, even the governor, set 
Mr. Peck down for a dreamer; for Egypt, as southern Illinois is called, had as little 
respect, in those days, for Chicago, and the lands about it, as they now have for it. 
My first visit to the "Garden City"' was seven years after Mr. Peck's, when it had 
grown to be a village of about five thousand inhabitawts, as unsightly an one as could 
anywhere be seen on the muddy soil of the New West. In addition to bilious fever 
and the shaking ague, its inhabitants had had already one or two attacks of the fever 
of land-speculation and "wild-cat" money, which had left them barely alive, with 
only hope for physic and to bank on. They were looking forward to the completion 
of the canal which should unite the waters of Lake Michigan with those of the 
Illinois Eiver, and thus open a highway of commerce to St. Louis and New Orleans. 
I once asked Thomas Carlyle the meaning of the word "navvy" which he had used, 
but which was Greek to me. "Oh," he exclaimed, "the navvy is the man who digs 
canals and is our modern miracle worker. A company of your Methodist brethren, 
at Yeddon, in Yorkshire, a dozen miles or more from the sea, were pouring forth 
their supplications at a pra3^er-meeting, when one of them cried out, 'Oh Lord, we 
beseech Thee to crown us with Thy mercy, and make Yeddon a sea-port.' In due 
time the navvy came, a canal was dug, Yeddon became a sea-port, and the miracle 
was wrought." And so, when I saw it first, Chicago was on tip-toe, big with hope, 
waiting for the accomplishment of the miracle at the hands of "Paddy, whose coun- 
try was his wheelbarrow." 

When I quitted the boggy, expectant village, it was in a good mail-coach, drawn 
by a brisk team of four horses, with the accompaniment of the driver's cracking 
whip and resounding horn ; but at the end of twelve miles, we were requested to 
alight and bestow ourselves in a '*prairie-schooner," as the long box-wagon, covered 
with a cloth of tow-linen, was called, and in this we jogged the rest of the hundred 
miles to Peru, at the head of navigation on the Illinois river, where we exchanged 
our schooner for a little stern-wheel steamer. 

Between Mr. Peck's first visit to Chicago and my own, the Legislature of Illinois, 
sitting at the capital — Vandalia — which name, by the way, was bestowed by three com- 
missioners, one of whom had read in some old book that the Vandals were the most 



''MILLIONS UPON BONDS, BUT NOT A CENT TO BE PAID." 681 

enlightened race of savages with whom history makes us acquainted, and persuaded 
the other members of the board that it was, therefore, the appropriate name for the 
capital of Illinois, — had in its sessions of 1835-36-37, authorized a stupendous system 
of internal improvement by which the settled parts of the State were to be grid-ironed 
with railways so that almost every farmer was to have immediate and easy access to 
the great markets of St. Louis and New Orleans. One of the principal lines was to 
run from the southern end of the canal to Cairo, thus opening the way by the Mis- 
sissippi to New Orleans; while from the end of the canal to the northwest, the line 
was to run to Galena, and Dubuque, Iowa. Innumerable lines were to cross the State 
from east to west. Taxation for these improvements, however, was not to bethought 
of, for the people were not willing that a mill should be added to their present rates. 
The budding statesmen at Vandalia, among whom were Abraham Lincoln and 
Stephen A. Douglas, then on their first political legs, insisted that the money to carry 
out these works, and also to finish the canal, could be raised upon lands derived from 
the Federal government, and borrowed upon the bonds of the State at the east, and 
in Europe. The old saying, "millions for defense, but not a cent for tribute," seems 
to have been translated into "millions upon bonds, but not a cent to be paid." The 
only one of these schemes which reached fruition, except the canal, was a railway 
from Meredosia, on the Illinois Eiver, to Jacksonville, a distance of little more than 
twenty miles, afterwards extended thirty-five miles farther to Springfield, which had 
meanwhile become the capital of the State ; for the nominal reign of the Vandals had 
ended. There were two locomotives on this line carrying passengers and freight at 
the rate of ten miles an hour, but one of them blew up, and the other landed in a 
ditch. Transportation, however, continued a while longer by the help of nudes, but 
even this ceased ; we returned to the dirt-roads after the bubble burst, and the State 
found itself hopelessly in debt, with nothing to show for it. Even the lands given 
by the general government for the support of public schools (every sixteenth section) 
had been appropriated by the Solons of the Legislature — "borrowed" they said ; — good 
money sent after bad with nothing to show for it, for the school-lands were sold and 
the proceeds squandered ; and the great State of Illinois was, like its prst locomotive, 
"bursted," or its second, in the ditch. "On February 27th, 1837, the internal im- 
provement act was passed, under which the State of Illinois undertook to build about 
one thousand, three hundred and forty miles of railroad, improve every navigable 
stream in the State, and as a healing balm to those who felt no particular interest in 
the building of railroads or improvement of rivers, two hundred thousand dollars was 



682 FIRST EXPERIMENT OF THE '-ROSE-BrDS" IX LEGISLATION. 

appropriated for iniTprovement of roads and bridges in counties through which no 
rtiih'oad or canal passed," Provision was made in the forty-second section of the 
bill for putting up conspicuously and maintaining across each turnpike-road and 
highway, boards on which there was to be painted in capital letters at least nine 
inches in length : "Eailroad crossing — look out for the engine while the bell rings I" 
They looked — "but. alas I saw nothing I" 

The act authorized the expenditure of over ten million dollars, equivalent to 
an appropriation of two hundred million dollars, on the basis of the present pop- 
ulation of the State, for the payment of which the faith of the State was ''irre- 
vocably pledged." Henry Brown, in his ''History' of Illinois," says: ''The 
State was then in debt, its revenue was insutficient to defray the ordinary ex- 
penses of government. The school-fund had been borrowed by the Legislature 
and expended, and the idea of taxation to pay interest or principal was scarcely 
thought of. Had taxation then, or at any other time, been suggested, the bill would 
unquestionably have been lost. The thought, however, of taxation either never oc- 
curred, or its necessity, at least in imagination, was removed so far distant that it 
caused no terror." 

This first experiment of the "Rose-buds" in legislation — the railway from Meredo- 
sia to Springfield, fifty-eight miles in length — never paid expenses, and having cost the 
State a million dollars or more, was sold, in 1847, for twenty-one thousand and one 
hundred dollars in State indebtedness. Oh ! Solon of Athens, the reincarnation of thy 
spirit in the mud-stained law-makers of Illinois sitting at the capital of the Vandals, 
was not a happy transmigration for the horny-handed tax-payers of the "Sucker" 
State. Dull, grinding years of dejection were yet to pass, before the farmers driving 
their wagons to town would need to look out for the snort and bell-ringing of the 
iron horse at railway crossings ; while their wives and daughters who drove with them 
to market were glad to get their calicoes, linsey-woolsey, sugar, tea, ''seedtick cof- 
fee," and "them molasses," and other necessaries and luxuries, at high prices, in ex- 
change for their eggs at three cents a dozen, dressed chickens at six cents apiece, 
turkeys from twenty-five to thirty-seven and a half cents, and the farmers them- 
selves were glad to get five or eight cents a bushel for corn, twenty-five or thirty for 
wheat, and three or five dollars a ton for hay, and from a dollar and a half to three 
dollars a cord for wood. 

The earliest settlers of the West, coming from heavily-timbered districts, made 
their homes in the groves, and set to work to fell the trees and "clean the brush'" to 



TIfE MIGKATORV "SQUATTER." 683 

open their farms, while near at hand were the endless prairies, waiting for the turn- 
ing of the sod; so strong is the power of habit and lessons learned in the past, 80 
small the power of intelligence and recognition of the needs of one's present sur- 
roundings. It takes time and discipline for men to learn the use of their eyes, and 
the brains behind them ; most prefer to see through their ears, and yield themselves 
slaves to the traditions of the past. Not a few of these pioneers were "sriuatters," 
shiftless people, unhappy except on the farthest verge of the frontier, who could not 
bear to see the smoke from neighbors' chimneys, and "took up lands," an it was 
called, in the hope of selling out their pre-emption right and then moving farther 
west. "When Col. Hardin went to Jacksonville, in 1832, he called upon a squatter's 
widow, living in a miserable cabin on the eastern edge of the village, to ask if she 
would be willing to sell her forty acres. "Sell" she answered, as she knocked the 
ashes from her corn-cob pipe, "I reckon I will, if j'e'll give a decent price. We 
used to live in ole Xoth Calina, till neighbors got thick; then we struck out for Ten- 
nessee, so we could be by ourselves ; but neighbors cum agin ; then we moved to West- 
em Kaintuk and they followed us there. At last, we struck out for the Illinois, and 
kept on till we thought we were out of reach of people, and squatted right here; but 
now they've cum and stuck a chunck of a town right down alongside of us, so I can 
hardly breathe. My ole man's dead, and me and the boys want to get to a decent 
country, where there haint no interlopers; and we'll be mighty glad to sell our 
'forty'." The Colonel bought the land, and the squatters wended their way toward 
the setting sun. 

Among the thriftiest farmers were Englishmen who had brought from the old 
country a little money, which, judiciously invested in lands at a dollar and a quarter 
an acre, gave them good farms, and these, with their excellent tillage, made them 
rich wherever strong drink was let alone. A smaller number of Scotch came, and 
they were still more prosperous, because of better husbandry and greater frugality. 
The very best farmers, however, were Kentuckians of the higher class, who, in addi- 
tion to capital, brought into the new countri' intelligence, enterprise, and public 
spirit, and did much towards lifting farming life and .society to higher levels by in- 
troducing better methods of cultivation, and the charm of a noble manhood, the grace 
of a sweeter womanhood, the benignity of wellK>rdered, kindly, hospitable homes, 
where good manners and the most genial relations between parents and children were 
the rule. They and their descendants have made centers of influence from which 
have radiated the finest forces of the countrv', ameliorating manners, enforcing good 



684 SECOND VISIT TO CHICAGO. 

neighborship, developing a high sense of honor and behavior. They introduced the 
blue grass into Illinois, the finer breeds of English and Scotch cattle, sub-soil plough- 
ing, tiling the lands for drainage, planting fruit orchards, and, in short, making two 
blades of grass grow where one grew before, and ridding the land of many of the 
diseases by which it was infested in the early days. I know of cases where great 
tracts of wild lands "entered," — that is, bought from the government at its price, a 
dollar and a quarter an acre, — are now fruitful estates in the hands of the second, 
third, and even the fourth generation of the founders of the family. 

My second visit to Chicago was in the summer of 1846, five years after the first. 
The town had nearly doubled its population, and, notwithstanding its low, swampy 
level was maintained, was beginning to take on some of the aspects of a young, enter- 
prising city. Log-cabins were supplanted by houses of brick and frame, some of the 
churches were of brick, in which the music was led by melodeon and choir. Board 
side-walks were laid in some places, and logs at the street crossings, on which one 
might skillfully avoid the perilous mire, while strangers had better accommodations 
at improving hotels. The number of steamers from Buffalo and other ports on the 
lakes was multiplying, but for transit on land you were still obliged to depend on 
the stage-coach and prairie-schooner, over roads well-nigh impassable in winter and 
spring, for the canal was not open for business until two years later, nor did a mile 
of railway enter the city until 1851. I attended divine service on Sunday at one of 
the leading churches, and a more nervous, restless congregation than was there gath- 
ered, I have never seen. It seemed as if the men and boys all had bronchial or 
pulmonary trouble, judging from the amount of throat-clearing and expectoration 
going on ; while there was an almost constant sound of shuffling feet, or creaking 
boots, as if relays of the congregation were obliged to go out to the front of the 
church to ascertain whether any of the expected millions of Chicago's future popu- 
lation had arrived since the service began, and then returning to inform the people 
inside. Everyone you met upon the street, at the hotel, or private houses, seemed 
to grow in height and breadth, as he expatiated upon the prospective greatness of 
Chicago. True, its situation was low, flat, muddy, and sickly, but it was a predes- 
tined capital, and bound to be one of the greatest cities in the world, and every inhab- 
itant swelled in self-importance at that magnificent prospect. If the hope and faith 
put forth by the people in regard to the future greatness of their city had been 
applied to things invisible and celestial, Chicago would have been the saintliest place 
the earth has ever known. It already had a worthy member in Congress, Mr. John 



LAKE MICHIGAN MARRIED TO THE GULF OE MEXICO. 685 

Wentworth, familiarly known as "Long John," whose immense bulk and stentorian 
voice devoted to sounding the praise of his adopted city, and furthering its interests 
in every way, qualified him to be a typical representative. His district was of im- 
mense size, for the greater portion of the lands in every direction for a long dis- 
tance from the town, were still occupied as feeding-grounds by quail, prairie-chick- 
ens, deer, and wolves; thought, indeed, to be well-nigh untillable, if not uninhabitable. 

The long looked-for day when the canal was to be opened for traffic at length 
arrived; Lake Michigan was married to the Gulf of Mexico, and the Garden City had 
water communication with St. Louis and New Orleans. Between 1848 and 1853 the 
remaining lands which had been given by the Federal Government for the completion 
of the work were sold, and some of the sanguine inhabitants of the city bought tracts 
of various sizes in its neighborhood, expecting a sudden and rapid rise in their value; 
but there were few or no purchasers, and to their chagrin, the tracts remained upon 
their hands; and this holding, in the end, made not a few of them millionaires, for 
in time the multitudes came, and the ground Avhich had been bought for a few dol- 
lars an acre was cut up into town lots, and sold at an almost fabulous price. 

Bonfires, horn-blowing, processions, and speech-making announced the completion 
of the canal ; sky and earth were bright with happy portents ; the owners of real 
estate were ready to dispose of their lands at an advance of a thousand per cent, 
upon the price they had paid, to throngs of eager buyers whose crowning ambition 
was to be numbered among the dwellers in the city by the lake; but they did not 
come, and Chicago had another back-set. Even its commercial convention, held in 
1848, with representatives from the East and all over the Mississippi Valley, at which 
renowned orators told of its greatness and predicted its future grandeur, did not 
materially increase its size nor enhance the value of its property. But whenever did 
Chicago lose heart or courage ? The people were as confident as ever, and well they 
might be, for the day of their victory was at hand. After a fierce struggle which 
lasted some years in the Congress of the United States, Judge Douglas and the other 
members of the Illinois delegation got a bill through the two Houses, and signed by 
the President, giving to the State an enormous land-grant to build the Illinois Cen- 
tral Railway from Cairo, at the mouth of the Ohio, to Centralia ; and thence two 
lines, one running to the northwest corner of the State at Dunleith — thus carrying 
out the plan projected thirteen years before by Judge Sidney T. Breese — and the 
other line to Chicago. A company was organized at once, eastern and English cap- 
ital secured, and the greatest railway enterprise of that day, a line of seven hundred 



686 THE "QUEEN CITy" YIELDS THE "CROWN OF BRISTLES." 

miles, in time was finished, and Chicago was advertised in earnest. Crowds hurried 
to it from every quarter of the Union, and many parts of Europe — the most push- 
ing, enterprising people anywhere to be found — all intent upon becoming suddenly 
rich, and ready for any undertaking, however gigantic. The level of the city must 
be raised several feet, and it was done. If you were a guest at the hotel you could 
eat, sleep, and read your newspaper in a great house gradually rising by means of 
jack-screws placed under it, to suit the new street-grade. You saw houses on wheels 
drawn by yokes of oxen through the streets, in which the families were pursuing 
their ordinary avocations, and apparently enjoying, as a holiday, the migration from 
their late neighborhood to one a mile or more away. As you walked the streets, 
especially at night, you were in imminent danger of breaking your neck, for the 
sidewalk was a succession of steps up and down, some of the property-holders hav- 
ing conformed to the change of grade, and others not. After the Illinois Central 
entered the city, other railways began to come, and the pace of the people quickened 
to top speed; all forms of industry took shape. 

Cincinnati had been the metropolis of hogs; but Chicago snatched away its crown 
of bristles, and at the same time became the great market for beef-cattle, lumber, 
and grain. St. Louis had long been the market for dry-goods and groceries for the 
upper valley of the Mississippi ; but Chicago grasped this prize also. To illustrate 
the change of values in these years, take this incident: A lawyer of Bloomington, 
Illinois, was intrusted by a New York firm with the collection of a note given by a 
Chicago house, which had been long over due. The debt amounted to only a few 
hundred dollars, but the house was unable to pay cash, and the lawyer accepted the 
deed for several acres of land on the outskirts of the Chicago of that day. This 
deed the New York firm refused to accept, and demanded the money. With diffi 
culty the lawyer raised the cash and sent it, keeping the land, and after some years 
it made him a millionaire. The increasing business of the town, and its enlarging 
opportunities, were taken advantage of by as keen-sighted, fertile, and daring a body 
of men as the world has ever seen, whose resources were equal to every advantage 
that was offered them, whose invention and energy constantly created new channels 
of trade and activity ; and education in commerce went forward at a rate never be- 
fore known. The conservatism of older business centers, and their time-honored 
methods, were laughed at as slow and "poky;" "nothing venture, nothing have," 
was the motto for every man. Enormous risks were taken, and if disaster followed, 
the loser smiled, saying, "We'll wipe out old scores, and begin again." Trafiic be- 



INFLUENCE OF THE NEWSPAPERS. 687 

came speculation; speculation, gambling in lumber, cattle, hogs, grain, land, and 
whatever men buy and sell. Many lost their heads, were ruined, and died from drink, 
or some other kind of suicide, but other gamesters rushed in to take their places, 
and met the same fate. Nevertheless, there grew up a great body of long-headed, 
far-seeing, dauntless merchants, bankers, and operators in other lines, who, rising from 
the ranks, beginning with little or no capital except their brains and energy, united 
common sense and a recognition of the laws of the world, to audacity and sleepless 
activity, achieving a success solid as brilliant, which has never been surpassed, if 
equaled. Lawyers, old and young, came, and the bench and bar of Chicago grew 
to be the peers of any in the country. The newspapers of the early days expanded 
with the growth of the city, or gave place to new presses, and were manned by a 
great force of reporters, writers, and editors, whose dash in collecting and making 
news, vigorous writing, and business methods, raised them from provincial sheets to 
the height of metropolitan journalism, and gained for them a circulation as wide as 
the great valley. They were prime factors in building the city, for whatever their 
politics, or the special views they advocated, all were enthusiastic in praise of the 
unrivaled town, and prophets of its future pre-eminence. Their influence, and that 
of the people they inspired, determined the holding of the National Republican 
Convention in the spring of 1860 at the great wigwam in Chicago, and secured 
the nomination of Abraham Lincoln for the presidency of the United States, over 
Gov. Seward, Gov. Chase, and all the other distinguished candidates. 

Seats of learning, schools of medicine and law, halls of science and letters, great pub- 
lic libraries, warehouses and business blocks of vast dimensions, homes of expensive 
elegance and luxurious taste, surrounded by well-kept grounds, sprang up on the border 
of the lake and the skirt of a prairie which a few years before had been a compound 
of sand-downs and quagmire. The surveyors of the first line of railway to enter the 
city, in 1851, the northern across to Galena, starting from one of the principal streets, 
had soon to wade in water up to their waists. The engineers who laid out the track 
of the Illinois Central Road had to journey in a southerly direction through a waste 
of a hundred and thirty miles, and in 1853, when the line was completed for a short 
distance, a traveler rode twenty-three miles from the city without seeing on the way 
a tree, a house, or any living thing, save an occasional prairie-dog. It was no un- 
common thing for the men at work on the line to come upon great herds of deer 
feeding on the prairie. A handsome girl, in attempting to cross a street of the early 
town, the surface of which seemed strong enough to bear the pressure of her light 



688 LEGISLATORS WHO POSSESSED BUSINESS SHREWDNESS. 

feet, sank up to her knees in the mire, and might have been entombed, but for the 
timely presence and aid of a gallant young man, who succeeded in rescuing her, and 
in time became her husband. 

As a quiet stranger in the city was jostled by the rushing crowds in the thorough- 
fares, he might be tempted to think that they had all eaten of "the insane root, that 
takes the reason prisoner;" but would discover that they were wrought to this 
intense and breathless haste by J3elief in the adage, "Time is money." The 
concentration of electric force which made Chicago, communicated itself to the whole 
upper part of the Mississippi Valley, and life became a race-course where the winners 
cried, "Let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung." The members of the 
Legislature took the contagion of shrewdness, and in granting the charter of the Illi- 
nois Central Railway, in virtue of the great land-grant, imposed a tax upon the gross 
earnings of the company of seven per cent per annum, thus creating a fund out of 
which have been built and maintained the massive State capitol and a large number 
of public institutions — hospitals for the insane, schools for the blind, deaf-mutes, and 
the feeble-minded, normal universities, penitentiaries, reform school, eye and ear in- 
firmary, and the like. The value of farming lands throughout the country had con- 
tinued at the government price, and by the use of soldiers' warrants bought at a low 
figure, had been purchased for sixty-two and a half, or seventy-five cents an acre, 
and the great body of them was unsold. As soon, however, as the Illinois Central 
began to operate, and the other lines called into being or quickened by its success, 
the price of land began to jump, and soon after all belonging to the government 
had been entered, ran up rapidly to twenty-five, fifty, seventy-five, and even a hun- 
dred dollars an acre, and the whole of Illinois became a meadow, a tilled field, or a 
garden, thick-set with prosperous towns and cities; while Wisconsin, Iowa, Minne- 
sota, the two Dakotas, Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming, and Montana have 
throbbed with the same mighty inspiration. 

Irishmen, English, Scotch, Germans, Danes, Swedes, Norwegians, Canadians, 
came as a great conquering host, not as their forefathers, the Scythians, Goths, 
Vandals, and Northmen invaded the empire of Rome, to slay, burn, and waste; but to 
subdue the earth, multiply and replenish it, and fulfill a part, at least, of Isaiah's 
prophecy: "The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the 
desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. It shall blossom abundantly, and re- 
joice even with joy and singing: the glory of Lebanon shall be given unto it, the ex- 
cellency of Carmel and Sharon; for in the wilderness shall waters break out, and 



THE GREAT FIRE OF OCTOBER, 1871. 689 

streams in the desert. And the parched ground shall become a pool, and the thirsty 
land springs of water: in the habitation of dragons, where each lay, shall be grass 
with reeds and rushes. And an highway shall be there, and a way; the wayfaring 
men, though fools, shall not err therein. No lion shall be there, nor any ravenous 
beast shall go up thereon, it shall not be found there." 

In October, 1871, the great fire came. Chicago went up in smoke, and nearly all 
that remained of it was a heap of ashes. Not a few millionaires of yesterday were 
penniless to-day, and hundreds of thousands of people who had been prosperous and 
well-to-do, had to live for a time on the charity of the world. Not only the whole 
country, but a good part of the earth, poured out money, sent food, clothing, and all 
things needed by the sufferers. Such a conflagration had not elsewhere been seen, 
and for a while all men became brothers bent on the succor of distress. Could Chi- 
cago recover from this blow? The new city, more spacious, stately and magnificent 
a score of times more than the old, answers the question. When the flames burnt 
themselves out, all seemed lost but the pluck of the people. At the end of a wee" 
everybody was at work again with rising spirit, for it was felt with pride that Chicago 
had its greatest advertisement. Here are some figures dimly showing the size of the 
holocaust; the space burned over was three and a third square miles, and 17,450 
buildings were destroyed; the loss of property was computed at $190,000,000. 

At the time of the fire the city limits covered thirtj^-five square miles ; now its area 
is 180.5 square miles, and its park and boulevard system, occupying 3,290 acres, is 
said to be the most extensive in the world. Then its population was 334,270; now 
it is one million and nearly a quarter, of which only 292,463 are Americans. What 
a growth since I first trod the muddy streets of the village, then lately incorporated 
as a city with a territory of ten square miles, mostly swamp. The census now makes 
it, as to population, the second city on this continent, and the seventh in the world. 
Thirty-five railways enter it, bringing and taking 175,000 people daily; 531 news- 
papers are published in the city, the extent of whose circulation may be guessed 
from the statement that 20,000,000 pounds of periodical matter pass each year 
through the Chicago post-office. A notion of the city's business may be formed 
from the fact that it takes 1,370 persons to handle the mails. 

While the States in the upper valley were growing with unparalleled rapidity in 
population, prosperity and wealth, Missouri, and the States south of the Ohio on both 
sides of the great river — Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, 
44 



690 THE TRUE BASIS OF PROSPERITY. " 

Louisiana, and Texas — were slowly recovering from the effects of the Civil War, by 
which they had been desolated. Homes had been pillaged and burned, fields 
trampled by battling hosts, tillage and trade almost suspended, the old forms of 
labor and society upset, almost everybody ruined; in nearly every family there was 
at least one dead, and he the bravest and best. Never has a people been called to 
face a more severe ordeal than that which confronted the South at the close of the 
war, and never before was such a sea of troubles met and overcome with fertility of 
resource, invincible firmness, and lofty courage. The heart of many an old man and 
woman broke, unable to endure the strain ; but the young and the middle-aged men took 
arms against their new foes, the overturn of their old order of life, waste and penury, 
and bore themselves as bravely as they had done upon the battle-field, and the women 
were even more constant and high-spirited. The reconstruction of society, labor, 
trade, and the laws, which has been made necessary, has been steadily carried on 
against all sorts of hindrances; new mines of wealth discovered and improved, new 
methods of labor introduced ; so that the development and progress in these States 
have been quite as noteworthy as in the more favored ones in the valley. The basis 
of all this prosperity, the quickening pulse of this new life, is to be found in the 
achievements and conquests of the plough, for the "plain people" so honored and 
trusted by Abraham Lincoln — the farmers and planters — are the creators of the wealth 
of the land. Out of the sweat of their faces the capital of the country has been 
coined ; their crops have brought the railways to their harvest-fields ; the wheat, 
corn, and cotton produced by their labor not only feed and clothe the people of this 
broad land, but nations across the sea, and keep the balance of the world's trade in 
our favor. 

Mr. Emerson said: "Columbus alleged as a reason for seeking a continent in the 
West, that the harmony of nature required a great tract of land in the western hem- 
isphere to balance the known extent of land in the eastern ; and it now appears that 
we must estimate the native values of this broad reg^ion to redress the balance of our 
own judgments, and appreciate the advantages opened to the human race in this 
country, which is our fortunate home. The land is the appointed remedy for what- 
ever is false and fantastic in our culture. The continent we inhabit is to be physic 
and food for our mind as well as our body. The land, with its tranquilizing, san- 
ative influences, is to repair the errors of a scholastic and traditional education, and 
bring us into just relations Avith men and things." 

It would be easy to fill my page with statistics drawn from the eleventh census ; 
but it was taken two years ago, and its figures representing our growth in population, 



A REPRESENTATIVE TOWN. 691 

railways, mines, farms, crops, cattle, and hogs, are already old. Our numbers lag 
behind the facts. This year mounts upon the shoulders of the last, and next year 
will do the same by this. Our deepest concern is not with the increase of money 
and that which it represents ; miles of showy warehouses filled with costly merchan- 
dise, more miles of pretentious dwellings, called by the newspapers "palatial," boards 
of trade, wheat-pits, and stock exchanges, where men grow frantic as they do at 
faro-banks and roulette-tables ; nor with vast hotels, club-houses, restaurants, the- 
aters, operas and ball-rooms, where men and women claiming to be of "old families" 
eat, drink, dress, and amuse themselves, regardless of expense; for these are not 
the tokens or meters of civilization ; nor do the strength and hope of the country 
abide with the men who make haste to be rich by means however questionable, and, 
heaping up great fortunes, leave them to sons whose highest ambition seems to be 
thought English or French — anything but American ; and to daughters, the dream 
of whose life is to wed a foreigner with a title, whatever his character. Our great 
cities with their contrast growing ever more startling and terrible between the osten- 
tatious luxury of the rich and the wretchedness, squalor, and desperation of the 
poor, are fast becoming the plague-spots of the Republic, and we must turn from 
their feverish rush and frightful struggle for life to the quiet existence and tranquil 
ways of the country and the small towns, if we would see what the past has be- 
queathed, and what promise there is for the future. 

Let me turn again to the home of my boyhood — Jacksonville — which may stand as 
a representative of towns in the great valley. In the fifty-four years I have known 
it, the population has grown from fifteen hundred to only about fifteen thousand, a 
normal development. Forty years ago a valued friend of mine with whom I was in 
college, a practicing physician as he has been ever since, started a small club of men 
and women for the study of Plato's writings. From that time to this the club 
has met every Saturday morning, except for two or three months each year in the 
heat of summer, and the leader of the club was pronounced by Mr. Emerson "the 
greatest living Platonist on either side of the water." Out of that assemblage of 
serious-minded persons intent upon things not seen or handled except by the spirit- 
ual part of man, innumerable clubs have risen in the town — literary, conv'ersational, 
scientific, artistic, a microscopic, a natural history, a Shakespearian, an art, a Brown- 
ino-, a historical, and I know not what other clubs besides a Sorosis, among the first, 
if not the very first, established in the country. Almost everybody in the town, old 
and young, men and women, laying claim to education and liberal tastes, belongs to 



692 A REPRESENTATIVE TOWN. 

one or another, or several of these associations. The intellectual and social force 
of the town has crystalized in an "Akadamie" where several hundred people gather 
once a month in a hall built by the founder of the Plato Club, to hear and discuss 
papers written by resident and associate members from all over the civilized world, 
on the deepest questions of philosophy and science, in a serious and enlightened 
spirit that would do credit to the most advanced learned societies of the planet. To 
this town had naturally gravitated many of the benevolent institutions of State, 
the school for the blind, one of the hospitals for the insane, besides a private retreat, 
a school for deaf-mutes, the largest and foremost upon earth ; and there are also a 
school of art, a conservatory of music, as weW as Illinois College for boys, and two 
colleges for girls. The houses of the better class of people are tasteful and com- 
modious, but not expensive or ostentatious, and almost every one surrounded by 
well-kept grounds and gardens, while the principal streets are embraced with avenues 
of trees that would do credit to New Haven. The best and handsomest structures 
in the town are the churches, in which is conducted as orderly, solemn, and uplifting 
a service of song, prayer, and sermon, as can anywhere be found. 

A considerable body of Irishmen and their families have made homes for them- 
selves in and about the town, and constitute a Roman Catholic parish of not far 
from three thousand souls ; while a colony of Protestant refugees from one of the 
Portuguese islands, simple, industrious, honest people, settled there a number of 
years ago. The mass of these foreign-born people are quiet, good citizens, and their 
children, undergoing the drill of an almost perfect system of public schools, are gradu- 
ally becoming Americanized, informed and reformed by our national traditions, usages, 
and hopes, taking as keen an interest in elections, and not a few of them as anxious 
to promote the welfare of the country by filling offices, as those who, through their 
forefathers, boast a longer stay on this continent. Nor must I forget the colored 
people, enough of whom live there to support several churches, and constitute a 
quiet, orderly part of the community, while their children answer the summons of the 
school-bell, and are treading the paths which lead to the heights of intelligence, self- 
control, and self-respect. 

A corresponding advance has been made throughout the county. The shiftless 
farming of the early time has given w^ay before the better methods and the best 
machinery of the later time. Instead of the log-cabins of the old days, with their 
wretched out-houses, you now see commodious and even handsome dwellings, great 
barns, well-appointed stables and cow-houses, large orchards, and all the signs of 
thrift and comfort. 



ONE day's work of A FARMEr's WIFE. 693 

A few years ago, at an annual meeting of the "Society for Home Studies," in Bos- 
ton, a paper on Shakespeare was read by Miss Gicnor, the secretary, which called 
forth great praise, and Dr. O. W. Holmes and Mr. Longfellow, who were present, 
declared it to be — for freshness and vividness of statement, excellence of illustration, 
force, and finish of style — one of the most remarkable essays they had read. It was 
written by the wife of a farmer living not far from Jacksonville, who excused herself 
to the secretary for Avhat she called her "poor article," by the statement that she 
had, on the day of writing it, cooked the breakfast and dinner for a large number of 
her husband's hands in the harvest-field, scrubbed the floors of the dining-room and 
kitchen, and then set herself to writing the piece. 

The influence of another society for promoting home studies in town and country 
should not pass unnoticed. It bears the name of "Chautauqua," and mi"-ht be 
called the People's University, for its courses of reading are pursued in almost every 
neighborhood, and its readers are numbered by hundreds of thousands, and every 
year they increase. Scholars may laugh, as many have done, at its meager curricu- 
lum, and repeat the threadbare adage, "A little learning is a dangerous thing;" but 
they forget that "half a loaf is better than no bread," when multitudes are per- 
ishing for lack of knowledge, and that when young men and women who read little 
or nothing are started in a course of good books placed within their reach, and 
kept up for several j^ears, they may be trusted to walk steadily forward in the high- 
ways of intelligence and truth. 

Thus have I seen a poor western village, where books were few and opportunities 
for culture scanty, grow into a seat of good letters, goodmanners, and high principle ; 
where old jealousies and asperities have been softened or have vanished altogether; 
where the standards of education, morality, and religion have grown steadily higher, 
the horizon of life widened, and its values immeasurably increased by faith, reverence, 
and charity. The changes which have taken place in the town and country I knew 
so well in boyhood, have been going on at the same rate and with the same results 
in thousands of towns throughout the great valley; and who can doubt that they will 
continue and increase? 

When the European peasant, who has always worn a friese jacket such as his 
forefathers have worn for centuries, dons, in Wisconsin, Minnesota or Missouri, his 
first broadcloth coat, he puts on something besides and better than the tailor-made 
garment — better manners, higher respect for himself and others. Much as he may 
desire to keep his children in the narrow ruts of ignorance and prejudice in which he 



694 EXPERIENCE A GREAT EDUCATOR. 

was trained and has always moved, it is as if he were fighting against gravitation. 
He himself has stepped to a higher plain, and when his offspring pass the doors of 
the public school, their mates of American birth may be trusted to teach them some 
things — and mighty important ones — which the schoolmaster cannot. Bulwer tells a 
story related to liim by the only English Duke who bore two titles. Pampered at 
home by the coddling of his mother, the worship of tutors and servants, until an 
ineffable sense of his importance had taken possession of him, he was sent to Eton, 
where the democratic rule of a great public school reigned. On his first day he 
stood in the play-ground while the fellows were engaged in their sports, his hands 
stuck in his pockets, nose in air, looking superciliously at all about him, when one 
of the romping lads about his own age rushed up and shouted, "Your name?" "I 

am the Duke of and " answered his Grace in a haughty tone. "There is a 

kick for each of them," said the schoolboy, making his words good with energy. 
"And if you keep on that manner you shall have a dozen more every day." The 
Duke assured Bulwer that no master at Eton or the university ever taught him so 
valuable a lesson as he received from those kicks. The son of the Scandinavian, 
German, or Bohemian parents will be sure to learn wisdom by experience at the hands 
and feet of his schoolmates, and their fun, laughter, and ridicule will scourge out of 
him his home-bred fancies and the last accent of his provincial speech ; in time he will 
come to look upon them as a badge of reproach, and get rid of them in haste. The 
free air of the great West, and the business of herding cattle, breaking horses, build- 
ino- houses, planting trees, digging wells, but especially of ploughing the land and 
o-athering its harvests, school men in a knowledge of the primary facts and forces 
of nature, developing in them sinuous strength, hardy resolution, and manly inde- 
pendence; and if you are looking for the representative American, you will find him 
amono- them, not in the haunts of trade or the saloons of fashion. 

An old friend, the Hon. George W. Jones, of Iowa, now four-score and eight years of 
age, has had a significant and remarkable career. His father, John Rice Jones, was a 
Welshman, who studied law in London, and in 1783, soon after the treaty of peace be- 
tween the mother country and her late colonies was signed, crossed the sea, and a year 
or two later with his wife made the journey from Philadelphia to Pittsburg in the wagon 
of John Filson, the historian, and thence in a flat-boat floated down the Ohio River to 
the Falls, now Louisville, and there began the practice of his profession. Some 
years later he settled at Vincennes, and became Secretary of the Indiana Territory 
when it included the whole Northwest, Gen. William Henry Harrison being the Gov- 



WHAT THE RIFLE, FLAT-BOAT, AND PLOW HAVE WON. 696 

ernor. Here my friend was born in 1804. In boyhood he Avas a drummer in the 
war of 1812-15; Later was a student at Transylvania University, Lexington, Ken- 
tucky, where he also studied law; and then filled various offices, civil and military, on 
the frontier. In 1835 he was elected a Delegate to Congress from the Territory of 
Wisconsin, when his district embraced all the country from the Illinois line to the 
British possessions, and from Lake Michigan to the Missouri River, including, besides 
Wisconsin, what are now the States of Minnesota, Iowa, and the two Dakotas. A few 
years after he was Surveyor-General of this whole vast region, and in 1848, upon 
the admission of Iowa to the Union, was elected a Senator in Congress from 
that State, and held the place until 1859. When his father began the prac- 
tice of law in Louisville, there were thirteen States in the Union, held to- 
gether by the loose bond of the old confederation. Three years later the Federal 
Constitution was framed, and the ordinance establishing the northwestern territory 
was passed by the Continental Congress. Two years before my friend was born, 
Ohio became a State, Kentucky having been clothed with statehood ten 3^ears earlier. 
With those exceptions, he has seen all the States from the British line to the Gulf of 
Mexico, and from the Miami to the Pacific, admitted into the Union. At his birth, 
the great valley was a wilderness ; Louisiana, — not only the State of that name, but 
all the country west of the Mississippi — had just been ceded to the Union by France. 
In his childhood, Tecumseh and the Prophet burned, slaughtered, and scalped, in 
what are now the States of Ohio and Indiana, as did their confederates not only in 
Illinois, but in Tennessee, Alabama, and Mississippi. He has seen the stars in the 
field of his country's flag grow from sixteen to a constellation of four and forty, — 
and to this number two others, at least, will shortly be added. He has witnessed 
the nation which in his childhood was rent by civil dissensions and feuds, with little 
commerce, no manufactures, raising scarcely bread enough to feed its small popula- 
tion ; ignored or despised by the powers of Europe, its flag insulted on the high seas, 
its vessels searched as if they were pirates ; its western border practically bounded 
by the great river and laid waste by the tomahawk, scalping-knife, and firebrand of 
the savage; its internal trade carried on by mule trains, ox-teams, and in flat-boats; 
its population not much above five millions : he has been the witness of its growth 
into one of the most powerful nations of the earth, its territory stretching from sea 
to sea, and from Manitoba to Mexico, peopled by sixty-five millions of souls ; ship- 
ping to Europe, in the ten months ending May 1st, 1892, grain from our harvest- 
fields, valued at over two hundred and sixtv-two millions, while the whole of our ex- 



696 THE GREATER TRIUMPH OF THE CROSS TO COME. 

ports, for the same length of time, make the balance of trade in our favor over two 
hundred millions of dollars. 

When he first came to Congress, the western and southern members often had 
to make a part of the journey on horseback, and spend not far from a month in 
reachino- Washino:ton from their homes. Now the members from the shores of the 
Pacific enter a palace car, and after a luxurious journey of five days, are at the na- 
tion's capital. In the wide valley which he has seen almost a tenantless waste, there 
are now school-houses, colleges, universities, and churches, whose value as property 
is measured by hundreds of millions of dollars ; but there is no meter of value which 
can fully represent their beneficent influence upon the lives and characters of the 
myriads of men and women, young and old, brought under their sway. If marvels 
like these, and scores of others which I have not time to name, have been wrought 
in one man's life-time, what imagination can picture the yet greater wonders in store 
for that vast reu-ion which the lance of De Soto could not win for Spain, nor the 
canoe of La Salle make a part of the French Empire ; but where the rifle and 
flat-boat of the backwoodsman opened the way for the victories of the plough, and 
where the cross which the pious Father Marquette kissed with his last breath is at 
once the symbol and the means by which the land, and all the people in it, shall be 
won as the heritage of Jesus Christ, our Lord, to whom they of right belong. 

"We sleep and wake and sleep, but all things move; 

The sun flies forward to his brother sun; 

The dark earth follows wheelM in her ellipse; 

And human things returning on themselves 

Move onward, leading up the golden year, 
"When wealth no more shall rest in mounded heaps, 

But smit with freer light shall slowly melt 

In many streams to fatten lower lands; 

And light shall spread and man be liker man 

Thro' all the season of the golden year. 
"Fly, happy, happy sails, aud bear the Press; 

Fly happy with the mission of the Cross; 

Knit land to land and blowing heavenward 

With silks, and fruits, and spices, clear of toll, 

Enrich the markets of the golden year." 

FINIS. 



lBAg?9 



LIBRARY OF 



CONGRESS 




014 540 734 5 




